


These Violent Delights

by Persephoneshadow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 09, Angst and Humor, Bunker Fic, Case Fic, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, Gen, Human Castiel, Humor, M/M, Much Ado About Nothing, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, References to Shakespeare, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shakespeare, Shakespeare Quotations, Shakespearean Sonnets, Smart Dean Winchester, Swearing, Team Free Will, slow build romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephoneshadow/pseuds/Persephoneshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A newly mortal Castiel wants to understand humanity, and a little Shakespeare is just the thing to help him. Of course, it takes a little bit of prodding, but soon the Winchesters (along with Kevin and Charlie) are all part of the world's weirdest reading club. Of course, the poetry starts having an effect on everyone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Why, there are both, baked in that pie."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has some questions about human culture. And cannibalism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set post-season eight finale, so it's summer of 2013. No spoilers for season nine.

Titus _: Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius:_  
 _The ravished her, and cut out her tongue;_  
 _And 'twas they that did her all this wrong._

Saturninus _: Go, fetch them hither to us presently._

Titus _: Why, there are both, baked in that pie,_  
 _Wither of their mother hath dantily fed,_  
 _Eating the flesh she herself hath bred._

William Shakespeare, _Titus Andronicus_  
Act V, scene iii

 

~*~*~

 

“Sam, I fail to see what mutilation and cannibalism have to do with understanding humanity.”

Sam shut his eyes and tried to process what he'd just heard, as Dean walked through the bunker door behind him. Nope. He hadn't hear that wrong. Castiel, former angel of the lord, had actually just said that. Their new, very scruffy, roommate was hunched over the long central table in the library and scowling at a large book.

“Hello to you too, Cas,” Dean grumbled and Sam imagined the amused look he was giving them without even looking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t get him started,” Kevin warned, emerging from behind one of the many tall shelves, shaking his head tiredly. This earned a perturbed look from Cas to the young prophet.

“Well, um, good work on the spell; worked like a charm,” Dean grinned, striding over and clapping Kevin on the shoulder so that the boy winced. Kevin and Cas had stayed in the bunker to finish the ritual to banish a succubus and had been quite successful. Not that Dean would have let them to come on the hunt, even if the spell hadn’t been needed.

“Yeah, well, you aren’t the one with exploded monster in your hair,” Sam muttered, peeling off his jacket and considering if it would be easier just to burn the clothes rather than wash them…

"Well, maybe if you had a bit less hair that wouldn't be such a problem," Dean smirked.

“I am serious, Sam, I have no idea why you recommended this,” Cas sighed, pushing the book away. “I think at least four people have been killed in the last ten pages. It is not very enlightening.”

“Jesus, Sam, what the hell did you tell him to read?” Dean scoffed, crossing the distance to peer over Cas’ shoulder at the tome, his hand absently coming to rest on the seated man’s shoulder.

“I-I have no idea…” Sam stammered. He glanced at Kevin for help but the younger man just gave him a smug smile and headed towards the kitchen.

“I'm thinking spaghetti tonight…” Kevin smirked and disappeared.

“ _Titus Andronicus_?” Dean read aloud as Cas glanced up at him. “What the hell? Is this, like, a demon codex?”

Sam let out a long exhale as Dean picked up the heavy book and examined the pages Cas has been reading. “No, it’s Shakespeare,” Sam sighed.

“You’re kidding me,” Dean gaped, turning the book over to read the gold-lettered title. He looked back and forth between Cas and Sam. “Seriously, you’re kidding me.”

“Sam said that the best way to understand being human was to read Shakespeare, but I am so far unimpressed,” Cas explained sourly, rising from his chair. Dean flipped back a few pages and Sam rubbed his face.

“I meant, like… _Hamlet_ ,” Sam groaned. His hand came away covered in sticky bits of succubus. Dean’s brow was furrowed as he read, no longer paying much attention to his brother. The sight of Dean reading Shakespeare willingly made Sam’s head ache. Cas was simply staring back up at Dean, thoughtfully. “I need to shower…”

“Dinner in 15 minutes!” Sam heard Kevin call as he made his way down the bunker's hall, stripping off the shirt and deciding that burning the thing was definitely the way to go. Or maybe he could wash and then it and give it to Cas. No, Dean would probably get on his case for that. Just like Dean had jumped on him for suggesting that they take Cas out to a bar or somewhere outside the bunker to start learning how to be human. Just like he was probably going to get on his case for suggesting Cas read Shakespeare.

It didn’t surprise him really, how protective Dean was of Cas. Dean would never admit it, but being the over-protective, gruff caretaker of pretty much anyone he deemed family was as much as part of Sam’s big brother as rock-and-roll, pie and killing things. Sam hadn’t said a word when they had found Cas – thanks to a very useful spell the Men of Letters had had on hand - and Dean had looked more relieved than Sam had seen him in years. He'd been quiet when Dean hadn’t taken his eyes off of the freshly minted human the entire ride home. He’d stayed quiet when Dean had declared that Cas was staying with them, no discussion, no questions. And he’d only complained a bit when Dean insisted that Cas needed time before going out on any hunts. Sam knew the two of them had, somehow, come to some understanding, so he just took it as given that what Dean had to say when it came to Cas was probably right. Sam had almost been thankful that Dean’s accustomed intense worry had been directed towards Cas more so than him while he healed from he trials. The ex-angel needed it more anyway. Cas still seemed sad, and a bit lost, especially when Sam would find him alone among the shelves of books or in front of the TV at night, but he always seemed a bit brighter when Dean was there watching over him.

Sam was surprised to be the first one in the kitchen. Being clean and entrails-free had revived his appetite and he wasn’t in a mood to wait for the rest of his mismatched family to make it in.

“Where…”

“They’re still arguing about the play,” Kevin muttered handing Sam a plate.

On cue Cas entered the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of the faded flannel shirt he was wearing over an even more faded t-shirt of Dean’s before taking a plate from Kevin.

“I don’t see why you don’t like this, Cas, it’s awesome!” Dean demanded as he entered, still, amazingly, holding the Complete Works and scanning the pages. Sam shoveled pasta onto his plate from the pot on the stove and watched Cas roll his eyes.

“It’s horribly violent,” Cas countered as he served himself and then took another plate from Kevin and filled it as well.

“I know, that’s why it’s awesome,” Dean grinned as he placed the book down, still open, on the table and took the plate of spaghetti from Cas. “Like, five people have died and I’ve just skimmed act one. It’s like a freakin’ Tarantino!”

“Cas, why did you start with that one?” Sam asked, exhausted and confused.

“It was the first one in the book,” Cas shrugged and started in on dinner, glancing at Dean who was eating and reading simultaneously.

“It was his first play, I think,” Kevin offered. “Sort of his embarrassing first attempt at writing.”

“Sort of like the first _Evil Dead_?” Dean piped up, downing more pasta and smiling. Cas looked simultaneously curious and a bit worried as Dean clearly added the gore-fest to his mental list of things Cas needed to see.

“Why humans find rape, murder, mutilation and revenge entertaining…eludes me,” Cas muttered, glancing down at the bright red sauce and looking a bit put-off. “I thought the species had evolved past reveling in savagery.”

“We do not 'revel in savagery,'” Dean snapped back.

Cas replied with a glare. Dean scowled and went back to the book.

“So, anything out of the ordinary with the...whatever it was?” Kevin asked, breaking the silence.

Dinner fell into what had become a familiar rhythm in the last few weeks; discussion of the hunt, a few stray worries about what it meant about the new crop of fallen angels and the new Queen of Hell and the usual conclusion that it seemed the angels and demons were doing a nice job tearing each other apart at the moment and that it was good to have sort of a break. Sam especially appreciated the opportunity to take it easy, after the trials.

Sam volunteered to do the dishes, smiling as Dean and Cas continued to squabble about the merits of violent entertainment and, as expected, Dean threatened to make Cas watch either _Pulp Fiction_ or _Evil Dead_ to illustrate the point.

“We can’t watch a movie, you need to finish reading,” Sam heard Cas argue as their voices faded into the hall. An hour later they were in their accustomed seats in the large room off the library that had become a de facto den. Sam was in the worn, leather wingback chair, Kevin curled up entirely in the faded armchair and Cas and Dean in their respective corners of the couch that Dean had somehow managed to conjure while Sam had been recovering. Sam had control of the remote for the evening, to Cas’ great relief and had tuned the pirated cable to MSNBC, despite his brother’s protests.

“Jesus!” Dean cried making everyone jump. “He cooked them in a pie!”

“Who…Wh-What?” Sam stammered.

“Titus! The asshats that raped his daughter; he killed them and cooked them in a _pie_ and fed it to their mom…” Dean explained, staring at the book in astonished disgust.

“See what I mean,” Cas muttered.

“Yeah, and then he _kills_ the daughter…and then the bitch mom and then her husband kills him…this is freakin’ brutal!”

“Are you sure you read it right?” Sam asked.

“He did,” Cas confirmed. “Dean is far more literate than he would first seem.”

Dean ignored the unintentional insult and kept his focus on the book. “Ugh, why would you do that to a pie…”

Sam rolled his eyes and looked back to the TV, happy at least that he had heard, though very softly, the sound of Cas laughing.

 

~*~*~

 

“Are you sure you don’t want some coffee?”

Castiel looked up from the pot of water he had set to boil and gave Sam what he hoped was a polite smile. “No, thank you, Sam. It’s still too…jarring,” he declined. “I’ll be fine with tea.”

Sam offered him coffee every morning. It was fascinating to Castiel, and touching, in it’s way, how the three men he had come to reside with had their different ways of helping him adjust to being human.

Kevin still treated him with a certain amount of wariness; but he was always ready to explain something without any hint of derision or frustration. He was the one Castiel would usually go to with questions, most often when the brothers were out on a hunt. Sometimes Kevin would be flustered by the inquiries, as if he had never considered that anyone would have to ask why human nails grew so quickly and how to deal with them, but he always answered as thoroughly as he could.

Sam was simply kind; sometimes even too kind. He would go out of his way to ask if Castiel was ok, if he needed something or wanted to talk or such. Castiel very much appreciated the concern. Especially considering what he had put Sam through, it was humbling. He only wished he had better answers and that he was better equipped to benefit from such concern. Despite the younger Winchester’s thoughtfulness though, Castiel was still not really comforted or consoled. At least, not nearly as much as he was by Dean.

It was strange, really. There was nothing he could quite pinpoint about the way Dean acted or treated him that was very different from things before he fell. Maybe that was the point. Dean didn’t treat him like an object of fascination or pity, instead he still ribbed him about his awkwardness, still treated him like he needed constant supervision and somehow that was the best thing. He knew Dean watched him and worried, but he never really said anything about; he just did what was needed. Without any real words, Castiel knew that he would not be harmed or allowed to harm himself, now that he was here.

There were other things too, little things that Castiel sometimes didn’t notice until days later. Dean was the one who had put an old radio in his bedroom, the one who had gone out and bought new toothpaste the day after Castiel discovered that wintergreen was the most horrible thing he had ever tasted. Dean was the one who had helped him buy human clothes and probably the one that had put an extra blanket in his room after he had complained about how cold it was as a human. While Kevin had explained very well why people became addicted to caffeine and Sam always offered coffee, Dean was the one who had tossed him some earl grey tea and left it at that.

“Revenge plays,” Dean announced as he sauntered into the kitchen, smiling very smugly as he slapped a thin pile of paper onto the table.

Castiel glanced at Sam, hoping for some clarification. The taller brother looked just as confused as he.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, shaking his head tiredly.

Dean smiled and picked up the top page from the pile and began to read aloud. “‘ _Andronicus_ is noted as a prime example of the Elizabethan genre of ‘Revenge Plays.’’” Dean made air quotes and Castiel repressed a smile. “‘Noted for their violent and graphic content, the plays were popular in Shakespeare’s early days in London. They often had classical themes which put them thematically in line with the violent spectacles of the Roman gladiatorial area.’” Dean set the paper back town, taping it with a flourish and raising his eyebrows. “See, historical context.”

“Dude, did you _Wikipedia_ that stupid play?” Sam demanded, mouth slightly agape.

Dean’s smile faltered a bit as he looked back and forth between his brother and Castiel. “Yeah…kind of.”

Sam’s eyes went wider and he let out a small laugh.

“What? I just wanted to…help Cas understand why the thing was written that way,” Dean muttered, taking a seat at the table and avoiding eye contact.

Sam shook his head and removed the boiling kettle from the stovetop and poured steaming water into the ancient coffee maker.

“Dean, I do understand that humans have enjoyed violence as entertainment for centuries,” Castiel explained carefully as he sat down across from Dean, who was now looking very perturbed. “I simply don’t understand why such things are entertaining.”

“It’s life, man, life is violent and messy and…stuff should show that,” Dean argued, leaning towards him.

“I understand that as well, just not getting pleasure from seeing that in art…” Castiel countered.

Dean sighed and began shuffling through his pile of research. Castiel wondered how late he’d been up doing that. He’d heard the printer somewhere in the middle of the night and figured it was Sam. If he had known it was Dean, he might have said something.

“Here!” Dean swatted another print-out. “‘The depictions of violence and brutality, some scholars theorize, is prevalent because it allows the audience to safely experience the basic and often violent elements of human life, and through seeing such horrors on stage, to achieve…catheters?”

“Catharsis; it’s Greek,” Sam corrected with a sigh, joining Dean and Castiel at the table and grabbing the paper from his brother. Dean looked at Castiel expectantly.

“Yeah, see, the Greeks were cool with it,” Dean offered.

“Your point is made,” Castiel surrendered, getting up to look for the one mug he liked most to brew tea. “Why you are so passionate about this is very confusing though."

“Yeah, Dean, why do you care?” Sam prodded. Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see Dean shift uncomfortably.

“I just…” He gave Castiel a quick look and scowled a bit. “I just thought your nerdy idea about reading Shakespeare wasn’t so bad and I didn’t want Cas to give up so easy, ok?” Dean explained very quickly.

“You’re saying you want Cas to keep reading?” Sam pushed.

Castiel sat back at the table, tea and mug in hand. He could see Dean was growing embarrassed, but was hiding it with his usual bluster.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel offered quietly. “But…” he faltered a bit, trying to find words that would not be hurtful or make him seem like more of a fool than he usually felt, now that he was human. “It’s not just the content. Plays were meant to be heard, not read and…my imagination is not well equipped enough yet, I think, to do even the best works justice.”

“Oh, well, that’s an easy fix,” Sam grinned, earning confused looks from both sides of the table. “We can read them out loud.”

“Sam, who is ‘we?’” Dean asked dangerously.

Sam turned to his brother with a look of pure mischief in his face. “All of us. You’re the one who really wants Cas to learn to appreciate the bard, so you’re in, right?”

“I am not…I don’t…” Dean sputtered. “ _I don’t act_.”

“Come on, it will be fun!” Sam laughed. “Right, Cas? And to make sure we get a good one, this time I’ll pick the play. Okay?”

“Sammy, I swear if you make me read some damn chick part…” Dean growled.

“I promise not to take video,” Sam retorted, still looking expectantly at Castiel.

Cas looked between the two men, weighing his curiosity about participating in such a new experience and the risk of making Dean truly angry. Then again, Dean had said it might be good…“I think that sounds like a very good idea.”

“Damn it,” Dean muttered as Sam clapped and pumped his fist in the air.

“What’s going on? Do we have to do more spells?” Kevin asked blearily from where he had appeared in the doorway. “Because the ingredients for the last one were seriously gross…”

“Oh no, man, this is going to be so much better,” Sam answered, almost purring as Dean’s face fell into his hands.

Cas looked down at the tea in his hands, noting that Dean was not actually refusing to participate, and smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for a good version of "Titus Andronicus" check out "Titus" starring Anthony Hopkin and directed by Julie Taymor. It's a weird movie but it's also a weird play. If you're looking for something more fun, try "The Complete Works of Wlm Shspr: Abridged" a parody play which includes Titus Andronicu: The cooking show.


	2. “Which else we should not know.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Shakespeare reading in the Men of Letters bunker gets off to a rocky start...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has a hankering for more Love's Labor's Lost, I highly recommend the film version with Kenneth Branaugh - it's even a musical!
> 
> All lines from the text of the play are italicized and large sections are set of, just so they are more readable.

Berowne _: What is the end of study? Let me know._  
King _: Why, that to know which else we should not know._  
Berowne _: Things hid and barr’d you mean, from common sense._  
King _: Aye, that is study’s godlike recompense._

William Shakespeare, _Love’s Labor’s Lost_  
Act I, scene i

 

~*~*~

 

“Alright guys, are you ready?” Sam asked way too smuggly as he threw a book at Dean.

Dean caught the tome clumsily, his attention turning to Sam with sick horror. He didn’t even need to look at the book to know what it was.

“I was really hoping that had been a hallucination...” Dean grimaced as he watched Sam hand another book to Kevin, who looked just as horrified as Dean felt. That made him feel a bit better at least.

“Hey, man, it was your idea, but if you want to back out…” Sam gave Dean a look that finished the sentiment somewhere along the lines of: ' _you totally can but I’ll never forget it and you’ll be a loser_.'

Dean glanced to Cas, who was seated beside him on the couch, as usual. He was sporting the ridiculously kind ' _please don’t force yourself to be uncomfortable on my account, Dean'_   look that made it pretty impossible to not go along with this stupid, stupid idea.

“This was so not my idea, but I am not whimping out,” Dean declared and Sam grinned the stupid, way- too-pleased with himself grin that Dean hadn’t seen a lot lately.

“Crap,” Kevin muttered. “Did I mention that I wanted to go to Princeton to study chemistry?”

“You are a prophet of the lord, blessed with the ability to read the word of God, surely this can’t be as daunting as that,” Cas responded, totally serious and without a drop of blame. Kevin’s look of worn-out confusion was lost on Cas, whose attentions had already turned away. “Sam, there are only three books.”

“I could only find two other complete works lying around. You and Dean will have to share,” Sam shrugged.

Dean scowled, because that meant he would not only be _reading Shakespeare aloud_ with _people listening_ , but he’d be doing it shoulder to shoulder with Cas. Well, that was probably better than Sam, who got too sweaty and, god love him, more than a bit gassy. Or Kevin, who was a bit too twitchy. And Cas didn’t care about personal space anyway. Sharing a book might actuallu be the least worst part of the day. Still: Shakespeare. Why.

“What work have you selected?” Cas asked calmly, as Sam took his seat in the old, wingback chair and scooted closer to the coffee table Dean had picked up from a pile of free stuff in a yard two towns over.

“A comedy. Where no one gets eaten,” Sam smiled. “ _Love’s Labor’s Lost_.”

“Hold up, is this like the Shakespeare version of a chick flick?” Dean protested as Cas began to flip through the book.

“Dean, you’ll like it, I promise,” Sam reassured, as he opened his own book and Kevin, looking pretty green around the gills, did the same. “It’s about a King and his three friends who make an oath to study alone for three years and how that…kind of has complications.”

“Four dudes stuck in a library you mean?” Dean grumbled. “Real subtle there, Sammy.”

Surprisingly, Cas gave a small, low laugh beside him. “The irony being that we ourselves are four dudes stuck in a library,” Cas explained, looking at the other men around him, smiling his ridiculously sweet lopsided grin at actually getting a joke on his own.

Dean wanted to drop his face onto the table, but simply shook his head. “Yeah, Cas, exactly,” Dean muttered, patting Cas on the shoulder.

“Sam…” Kevin interjected weakly. “There are, um, a lot of parts in this…”

“Yeah, I just figured we’d work it out scene by scene,” Sam shrugged.

“Half of them are…girls,” Kevin pushed back, swallowing hard.

“Sam, I told you…” Dean growled as Sam looked innocently up from his text.

“Actually, Dean, it would be completely within the historical context for the female parts to be played by us,” Cas cut him off.

Dean blinked at him. “What?”

“It was in the research you printed out,” Cas elaborated simply. “Women weren’t allowed on the stage until decades after Shakespeare died. All the female roles were originally written for men.”

“Yeah, Dean, _historical context_ ,” Sam smirked, his smugness nearly lifting him out of his seat. Kevin made a small sort of sick noise and Dean just sighed. “Come on, man, let’s just get through the first scene ok, if you don’t like it we’ll…I dunno, find another play, maybe one of the histories.”

“Fine,” Dean surrendered through gritted teeth. “Who’s who?”

Sam smiled at this, looking back at the text. “Well, I’m in charge so I'm obviously the King of Navarre.” Dean rolled his eyes, but not so much that he didn’t see Cas crack a small smile at his reaction. “Dean, you’re his best friend, Berowne.” Dean shrugged; ok, not so bad. “Cas, you’re Longaville and Kevin, you’re Dumain. They’re the other two friends. Got it?”

“Yes. Wait. No,” Dean sputtered. “Where the hell is Navarre?”

“In your imagination,” Sam scowled back. “Are you ready?”

Everyone nodded quietly, shifting a bit and glancing at the text. Sam cleared his throat, straightened his posture and began to read.

“ _Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,_  
 _Live register'd upon our brazen tombs_  
 _And then grace us in the disgrace of death;_  
 _When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,_  
 _The endeavor of this present breath may buy_  
 _That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge_  
 _And make us heirs of all eternity_."

Dean smiled to himself. Sam read it like he actually understood what he was saying, his voice clear and crisp. It was always nice when to be reminded his annoying little brother was a genius.

“ _Therefore, brave conquerors,-for so you are,_  
 _That war against your own affections_  
 _And the huge army of the world's desires,_ -  
 _Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:_  
 _Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;_  
 _Our court shall be a little Academe_  
 _Still and contemplative in living art_.  
 _You three, Berowne, Dumain, and Longaville_ ,  
 _Have sworn for three years' term to live with me_  
 _My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes_  
 _That are recorded in this schedule here:_  
 _Your oaths are pass'd; and now subscribe your names_ ,  
 _That his own hand may strike his honour down_  
 _That violates the smallest branch herein:_  
 _If you are arm'd to do as sworn to do,_  
 _Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too._ ”

Sam looked up. Everyone was staring at him instead of reading. Dean took the opportunity.

“Ok, just so we’re clear, he’s making his friends sign some sort of contract with all the rules for this three year study hall thing?”

Sam frowned thoughtfully and shrugged. “Yeah, actually…” 

“Ok, just…checking,” Dean muttered. “Cas?” He nudged the man beside him, who was watching him and Sam more so than the book. “I think you’re next.”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Cas murmured and his eyes returned to the text and squinting. Of course. “ _I am resolved; 'tis but a three years' fast._ ”

Dean smiled to himself again. Cas had the voice for Shakespeare. It was comfortable with grandness and big words. Listening to him wasn’t bad at all.

“ _The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:_  
 _Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits_  
 _Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.”_

“Dude, you rhymed,” Dean grinned and Sam sent him a glare. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to be keeping up a commentary. He glanced over to Kevin, who was looking around nervously. It was his turn.

“ _My loving lord,_ ” Kevin began, his voice shaking and higher than usual. “ _Dumain is mortified:_  
 _The grosser manner of these world's delights_  
 _He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves_ :  
 _To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die_ ;  
 _With all these living in philosophy._ "

Kevin had spat it all out too quickly, but he seemed to relax when no one laughed or criticized him. Dean was certainly in no position to do so. Especially considering it was his turn. He cleared his throat, more than a little freaked out by the huge block of words on the page.

“You’ll do fine, Dean,” Cas whispered from beside him, too low for the others to hear. Dean took a deep breath.

“ _I can but say their protestations over,_ ” Dean read, trying to speak slowly and clearly; grateful that Sam wasn't laughing. Yet. “ _So much, dear liege, I have already sworn_.” Dean paused. Still good. Ok. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. He straightened up a bit, glancing around between lines as he read, to gauge reactions.

“ _That is, to live and study here three years._  
 _But there are other strict observances_ ;  
 _As, not to see a woman in that term_ ,  
 _Which I hope well is not enrolled there_ ;  
 _And one day in a week to touch no food_  
 _And but one meal on every day beside,_  
 _That which I hope is not enrolled there;_  
 _And then, to sleep but three hours in the night,_  
 _And not be seen to wink of all the day--_  
 _When I was wont to think no harm all night_  
 _And make a dark night too of half the day--_  
 _Which I hope well is not enrolled there:_  
 _O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,_  
 _Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep!”_

Dean looked up at the sound of laughter. It took him a second to realize it was not directed at him, but at the words. He smiled and shook his head. “Dude, he has a point, that is incredibly harsh."

Sam rolled his eyes and read: “ _Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these._ ”

Again, Dean took a second to realize the glare Sam was giving wasn’t for him, it was the King’s glare fore Berowne. Ok, acting. Maybe he could be better at it in this dimension, without cameras, and not playing…himself. He raised his voice, trying to sound as if he was worming his way out of something. 

" _Let me say no, my liege, an' if you please:_  
 _I only swore to study with your grace_  
 _And stay here in your court for three years' space._ ”

The rhyming was weird, Dean thought to himself, but it was also sort of fun.

“ _You swore to that, Berowne, and to the rest,_ ” admonished Cas from beside him, with a fed up, annoyed tone that was extremely familiar.

“ _By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest_ ,” Dean read back quickly. This was getting easier. “ _What’s the end of study? Let me know._ ” He saw Sam smile. They had had this conversation themselves a few times. Except without the rhyming.

“ _Why, that to know which else we should not know_ ,” Sam shot back. 

“ _Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense?_ ” Dean as Berowne replied, derision in his voice.

“ _Ay, that is study's godlike recompense,_ ” King Sam answered without missing a beat.

Dean glanced up and rolled his eyes for good measure, making the smile that Cas was fighting brighten a bit. Dean could get into this.

“ _Come on, then; I will swear to study so,_  
 _To know the thing I am forbid to know_ :”

Dean continued, confidence rising.

" _As thus,--to study where I well may dine,_  
 _When I to feast expressly am forbid;_  
 _Or study where to meet some mistress fine,_  
 _When mistresses from common sense are hid;_  
 _Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath,_  
 _Study to break it and not break my troth._  
 _If study's gain be thus and this be so,_  
 _Study knows that which yet it doth not know:_  
 _Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.”_

Dean finished with a flourish and looked around as Cas laughed quietly beside him. Kevin was smiling and Sam was practically beaming.

“Dude, I am so mad I promised not to take video,” Sam chuckled.

“Shut up and read your line, jerk,” Dean grunted.

“I think that was meant to be a compliment,” Cas whispered to Dean as Sam read his line. “You are doing an excellent job. It’s very enjoyable.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean muttered quickly, trying not to smile to stupidly or anything else that would show too much pride. It was his line again any way.

“ _Why all delights are vain, but that most vain, which purchased doth inherit pain…_.”

 

 _~*~*~_

 

Sam was almost worried that he couldn’t remember that last time he had laughed this much. They’d made it easily through the first scenes, cracking up when Shakespeare blatantly inserted lines just so they would rhyme and the characters had actually commented on it. Dean trying to explain to Cas exactly why that was funny had been hysterical in and of it’s self.

The real fun though had come when they’d started adding more parts. First, Kevin was forced to play Costard, the king’s clown. He’d slowly lost his shyness and after a few minutes, he was easily bouncing lines off Dean and Sam. Next they had added Armando, the love-struck Spanish knight, and Moth, his page. Dean had taken on Armando just because of the name and had adopted possibly the worst 'Spanish' accent Sam had ever heard. It was a blessing that Cas had taken on Moth, because he was the only one who didn’t burst out laughing every time Dean started speaking. The laughter had been contagious though, and it had been fun to watch Cas (who had been possibly the most serious… _being_ Sam had ever met) slowly start to grin and turn red as the scene went on and Dean hammed it up, even more so when Sam came in as Constable Dull.

Adding Kevin as the object of Armando’s affection, Jacquenetta, had been that last straw. Kevin had hitched up his voice and given Dean a few bats of his eyes and Sam had fallen out of his chair, howling as the others tried to keep things up. Dean didn’t give up and had sent even Cas into fits as he pined and called after his love. By the end of the scene, tears were streaming down Sam’s face.

“Ok, we have to stop or I’m going to asphyxiate,” Sam gasped, wiping his eyes as everyone quieted down a bit. “We can do act II tomorrow, alright?”

“Tomorrow?” Dean echoed incredulously. “Why not after diner? This has _got_ to be more entertaining than whatever damn discovery channel thing Kevin is going to pick."

“Dean, if I have to hear you read for the Princess of France today, I think it will kill me," Sam said.

“Fine,” Dean scowled and pushed the book away.

“Also, you’re making dinner,” Sam added, tilting his head maybe a bit too smugly. “Which means we’re all going to be in food comas in about an hour or so.”

“Sam, Dean is a very good cook, I highly doubt his food would poison us and…” Cas stopped, cut off by Sam and Kevin’s expression.

Dean stood and squeezed Cas’ shoulder, shaking his head tiredly. “I’ll explain while you peel potatoes,” Dean offered. Cas rose and followed Dean, his eyes not leaving him for a second.

Kevin glanced at Sam, an eyebrow raised.

“They’ve been through a lot together,” Sam answered the unspoken question with a shrug. Sam grabbed the remote and tossed it to Kevin, smiling. “Your night. No more _Adventure Time_ though, ok, that stuff is just…too weird.”

Kevin smiled and pushed the power button. “Ok, Daily Show it is…”

 

~*~*~

 

Castiel padded quietly along the tiled hall, eyes not really focused on much in the near total dark. He knew when he reached the 'den' by the feel of the threadbare rug beneath his feet. Just a few more steps to the kitchen…he stopped, jostled out of his daze by the dim blue light from the door to the library. He moved towards it without thinking, a bit worried and a bit curious.

Dean was seated at the long table, staring intently at his computer, brows furrowed and his face illuminated by the soft light from the screen. Castiel stood and watched, thinking briefly of how much he missed being able to just _watch_ people, to watch Dean especially, from afar without having to feel this strange and aching worry intruding upon simple fascination. Moments like this reminded him of how beautiful all of humanity had once been to him.

As if he could feel the weight of eyes upon him Dean looked up. “Hey, man, did I wake you?” he asked softly. Castiel shook his head, taking a few steps towards the table. “Still can’t sleep?”

"I have the ability to sleep, and the desire to…it’s just achieving sleep that continues to be the issue,” Castiel muttered and Dean chuckled. “How do you do it?”

Dean gave a small laugh and looked up, the light from the computer making his green eyes incredibly vivid in the dark room. “Buddy, you are asking the wrong guy,” he sighed, shaking his head.

Castiel took a seat across the table from Dean. “I assumed you had some secret to making yourself sleep even when your mind won’t let you.”

“Yeah, not really…” Dean sighed, glancing at the screen of the laptop. “I used to keep the TV on in the motel rooms; that made it a little less lonely, drowned out all the noise. Sometimes I’ll read until I passed out…but…it’s still hard, since…” Dean didn’t need to finish the sentence. Castiel knew.

“Is that what you’re doing?” Castiel asked, tilting his head curiously to indicate the computer. “Reading?”

“Uh…sort of…” Dean swallowed in the particular way that indicated he was embarrassed. “It’s not porn."

“You would be far more flustered if that was the case,” Castiel reassured him. Dean’s mouth opened and shut a few times, a sign to Castiel that his last statement was perhaps not within human norms.

“I was…” Dean sighed deeply and turned the computer around to show Castiel a webpage full of text and small pictures that looked like ink drawings. “I was reading up on the play. I didn’t want to sound like an idiot and have to ask what anything meant if…”

“You’re not an idiot, Dean,” Castiel interjected. “You probably understand it better than me.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean snorted. “I’m stuck in the bookclub with the giant that went to Stanford, Advanced Placement Prophet and the million year-old ex-angel. I’m pretty sure a GED doesn’t really compare.”

“I’m not a million…” Castiel stopped; that was the wrong assumption to correct. “Well, I still think you’re very smart. And you understand…people and…words and stories far better than I.”

Dean smiled and shook his head, which Castiel hoped meant he was actually considering believing him. “Sam’s gonna say doing background research is cheating,” Dean muttered.

Castiel smiled dimly. “Well, it’s not cheating if more than one person has the information,” he reasoned aloud. “Will you tell me about what you’ve found?”

Dean caught Cas’ eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment as consideration and something else Castiel couldn’t name washed over his expression.

“Sam and Kev are gonna know,” Dean warned, but turned the computer around and clicked the track-pad.

Castiel curled his legs up into his chair, fitting snuggly but secure as Dean began to read, quietly so as not to disturb anyone else.

“‘Believed to be one of Shakespeare’s earliest play’s _Love’s Labor’s Lost_ in a key example of Renaissance romance, often focused on deceptions and a breaking down of the idea that love can be outsmarted with intellect and trickery…”


	3. "We Happy Few"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to try a play with a little more action...and a lot more words. But not before dealing with some normal demonic issues.

Henry _: We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;_  
 _For he today that sheds blood with me_  
 _Shall be my brother._

William Shakespeare, _Henry V_  
Act IV, scene iii

 

~*~*~

 

Castiel looked up from the huge spel book he had been studying as Sam cleared his throat. He was standing at the door to the library, a tray of bland food in his hands and an impatient expression on his face.

Castiel looked around the table. Kevin squirmed, avoiding eye contact and Dean continued reading the book propped on his legs, his face unwavering. Sam coughed again, this time louder.

“You need a ricola there, Sammy?” Dean muttered, glancing up at Sam over his shoes, which were propped on the table.

Sam pursed his lips and glared. “It’s your turn, smartass,” Sam sneered. Dean sighed, closing his book and clenching his jaw. “Look, man, I know you think it’s too nice, but we can’t starve him. Ok?"

“Yeah, cause he would totally do that for us,” Kevin grumbled darkly and turned back to his research.

“Prophet’s got a point,” Dean smirked.

Sam responded by striding around the table and kicking Dean’s feet to the floor. “I’ve done it the last three days. It’s your freaking turn,” Sam almost growled and Dean held his gaze for a long moment.

Castiel watched the battle of wills, noting the tell-tale tension in Dean’s shoulders. “I’ll help,” Castiel volunteered, and Dean and Sam’s attention snapped to him. He rose and took the tray from Sam without waiting for an ok. It was better to just do things and not let Dean argue. He glanced over his shoulder as he began to head out of the library. “Dean, get the keys and the knife, please.”

In a moment, Dean had complied and Castiel was following him down the silent hall towards the innocuous looking file room door. Dean caught his eyes and gave him a thankful nod before turning the key in the lock and pressing his way in. The door to the dungeon itself was harder too open.

“Ah, right on time,” the voice lilted as the door slid open, acid in the tone. “And who do we have today?” the hunched figure chained in the center of the room asked, sneering, as Dean and Cas stepped inside. “Well, well, Pinocchio playing waitress. What’s wrong? Rapunzel too busy deep conditioning?”

 ____“____ You know, Crowley, I’m curious; when did they start getting the Disney channel in hell?” Dean sneered back.

“I’d take bloody Hannah Montana over this boredom, any day,” Crowley shot back.

“Get up,” Dean ordered, rolling his eyes.

Castiel sat the tray down on the small table set up beside the cot in what had become the former King of Hell’s personal prison. He caught the demon knife easily as Dean tossed it to him, keeping his eyes trained on the prisoner as Dean released the shackles from the chain connecting them to the floor. The hunter grabbed Crowley roughly by the arm and pulled him toward the door.

“Easy on the merchandise, soldier boy,” Crowley protested weakly. Castiel didn’t take his eyes off him, holding the knife ready as Dean pulled the smaller man down the hall. “At least a bucket would get me some privacy,” Crowley muttered as Dean shoved him into a small, dingy bathroom.

“Yeah, well, we’ve already wasted too much of our lives dealing with your shit, so, no,” Dean yelled back through the door as he slammed it on Crowley. Castiel fought back a small smile. It had taken a few long, frustrated explanations on Dean’s part, but he was starting to truly appreciate puns. “I really, really hate that guy,” Dean muttered, leaning on the door.

“Seconded,” Castiel replied tiredly, looking around the hall and finding nothing quite as interesting as Dean to focus on as they waited. There was tension in the hunter’s jaw that made his lips pucker a bit. Dean’s mouth suddenly relaxed into a glimmer of a smile. He’d caught Castiel staring but didn’t seem to mind, as usual. And as usual, Dean stared back. The sudden movement of the door as Crowley emerged shook them both from the moment.

“So, Cas,” Crowley smiled coldly, looking him up and down as Dean grabbed a handful on dirty suit jacket and began to guide him back towards the dungeon. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s tricks? Expelled any more species from their homes lately?” Castiel felt every muscle in his body tense and his cheeks redden.

“Shut up, you slimy piece of shit,” Dean snarled, shaking Crowley a bit.

“Just curious, mate,” Crowley shrugged. “I hear you idiots laughing like, well, idiots down there. Figure something fun must be going on.”

Dean gritted his teeth and remained silent as he pushed Crowley back into the dungeon.

Castiel ran his finger along the worn antler handle of the demon knife. Ignoring these kinds of insults had been easier without the burden of human emotions and weakness.

“Come on,” Crowley pushed. “What’s so funny? Was Dean telling one of his ‘I tried to save the world and just bullocksed it up more' stories?’”

“We were reading Shakespeare,” Castiel answered, trying to keep his voice steady and seeing Dean tense and pull a little too sharply on Crowley’s chains as he locked them back to the floor.

Crowley’s mouth spread into a grin. “Dean, I didn’t know you could read!” he purred.

Dean ignored him and strode over to the table again, taking the knife from Castiel. He examined the yellow pad of paper beside the tray, scowling. “This is all you’ve done?” he demanded in annoyance.

“What can I say,” Crowley drawled back. “These living conditions just aren’t getting my mental juices flowing.”

“You should be glad that you even have living conditions, you dick,” Dean shot back.

“He’s right,” Castiel confirmed darkly. “This is far more mercy than you deserve.”

“Oh yes, the infinite compassion of the Winchesters,” Crowley sneered, eyeinh Dean. “Still, can’t see why I get locked up in the dark and this little walking disaster gets a flannel makeover and private dinner theater. Apparently all newly human freaks aren’t created equal.”

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to him,” Dean growled before Castiel could say anything.

Crowley didn’t flinch as Dean advanced on him. “Yeah. I didn’t kill half my own kind then get the rest of them kicked out of the skybox; he’s much worse.” Dean’s eyes flared wide and Crowley smiled gleefully, licking his lips.

Castiel focused on breathing, anger seething under his skin in a reckless, terrifying tangle. “You’ve tortured millions, taken innocent lives…” he accused through gritted teeth.

“You two are just too much fun,” Crowley drawled as Castiel came to Dean’s side and placed a hand on his flexed shoulder. “All uneasy on your high horses. You just need a little reminder how alike we all are.” Castiel felt Dean’s muscles tense beneath his hand and tightened his grip. “The two of you and your moron brother have left more bodies behind you than you can count.”

“Shut up,” Dean grunted, lunging forward. Crowley skipped back, snickering.

“Or what?” Crowley challenged, eyes narrowing. “You’ll cave in and finally do to me what you do best. Get all the juicy little secrets out of my head the sharp and bloody way? I have heard _rave_ reviews about your technique. At least while I was torturing souls, I was already a demon…”

“You son of bitch,” Dean grunted, pouncing. Castiel fought to hold Dean back, gripping his wrist above his tightly clenched fist. Crowley snickered.

“Dean,” Castiel entreated, as the other man met his eyes. “Don’t. If you hit him you’ll probably break his jaw, maybe kill him, and that would be extremely inconvenient and unhygenic.” Castiel watched as Dean swallowed, relaxing just a bit.

“Thanks, Cas, you’re an angel,” Crowley crowed from behind him.

Castiel cast Dean a dangerous look. “It’s much better if I do it,” he explained as he spun and punched Crowley squarely in the face.

 

~*~*~

 

Sam looked up to the sound of Dean and Cas reentering the library. Cas was shaking out his hand and Dean was grinning from ear to ear.

“That was uncomfortably satisfying…” Cas muttered to Dean.

Sam smushed his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do I…want to know?” he asked hesitantly.

“Crowley got lippy. Cas punched him. It was awesome,” Dean explained gleefully.

“Whoa. Jealous,” Kevin chuckled.

“Dean, we’re supposed to be…”

“I know, I know, Sammy, be the better person…people or whatever,” Dean huffed, flopping down in a chair. “It still was awesome.” Dean flashed Cas another grin, which Cas answered with a weak smile.

“Any progress on that list?” Sam asked with a defeated sigh.

“Very little,” Cas replied, carefully taking the chair next to Dean.

“Almost like he doesn’t want to help for some reason,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah, well, it’s a stupid plan anyway,” Dean grunted back, looking pointedly away.

“Dean, it was your idea,” Sam argued impatiently. “And it’s brilliant.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, we’ll see what Charlie says about it when she gets here,” Dean shrugged. “But, in the mean time, I think it’s safe to get off the geek train for the rest of the day.” Dean flicked the spellbook in front of him closed with a flourish.

“Dean…” Sam protested, though he knew it was pointless. Kevin had already closed his book as well and pushed it away. And it was completely useless to think he’d get Cas on his side at this point.

“Come on, we’ve got one act left on _Love’s Labor’s_ ,” Dean crowed with a ridiculous smile. “I wanna hear how it all works out.”

“Well, I assume not well, judging by the title…” Cas replied absently, looking at his hand and flexing it slowly.

“Dude! Spoiler alert,” Dean exclaimed.

“I still don’t get why they dress up as Albanians…” Kevin asked absently.

“It was kinda the default crazy foreign people in the renaissance; you’ll see it all over, even in…” Dean stopped, swallowing as Kevin and Sam stared at him as if he’d just burst into song. “…opera…”

“What was that about getting off the geek train?” Sam asked, unable to reign in his smirk.

“Shut up,” Dean snapped and glanced at Cas beside him. “Let’s get some ice on that hand.” He rose without waiting for a confirmation, Cas following behind after only a moment of processing.

“You never warned me that hitting someone was this complicated,” Cas murmured and Dean shook his head.

“Hey man, you’re not a Winchester until you’ve bruised your hand on some asshole’s face. Be proud,” Dean explained, gripping Cas on the shoulder and leading him out of the library towards, Sam assumed, the kitchen. “Curtain in five minutes, jerks!” Dean called out over his shoulder as they disappeared.

Sam sighed, closing his book and rising. Resistance was futile.

“So, that’s all it takes...” Kevin muttered as he followed Sam towards the den.

“All what takes?” Sam asked back, looking over the young prophet. Kevin looked only a little less worn down than usual. At least he was combing his hair again and the constant redness had gone from his eyes.

“To be a Winchester. Just gotta punch the king of hell,” Kevin muttered with a weariness that surprised Sam.

“Kev, are you jealous ‘cause of what Dean said?” Sam asked in amazement.

Kevin gave a small shrug. Picking up his copy of The Complete Works and collapsing into his chair across from Sam.

“Kevin, come on,” Sam balked.

“I just…when you guys talk about family like that, I…I miss mine,” Kevin confessed, his voice thin.

“You know we’re your family too, Kev, right?” Sam answered, catching Kevin’s gaze and holding it. “You’re part of this; of us.”

Kevin looked down, a small smile breaking across his face.

“Yeah, man,” Dean added from the doorway where he had appeared, Cas lingering behind him with a towel full of ice on his hand. “You gotta know that.”

“Thanks, guys,” Kevin muttered. Dean smiled sincerely, both at Kevin and Sam.

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s get this rolling,” Dean commanded as he collapsed onto the couch, sending up a small cloud of what Sam hoped was mostly dust.

“Man, Dean, what are you going to do when we finish this?” Sam asked with a bemused smile, flipping to the final act of their play.

“Aren’t we going to read another?” Cas asked with intense concern in his face, his eyes not straying from Sam as he took his seat on the couch.

“I don’t know. Are we?” Sam parroted, pining Dean with a brotherly glare.

Dean shifted in his seat, mouth a bit open as he looked for words. “Well, yeah, sure…” Dean stammered. “I mean, we’re having fun and Cas need to keep, uh, learning, right?”

“I guess so,” Sam agreed smugly. “Got any ideas for the next play?”

Dean’s face grew almost as bright as if Sam had offered him a pie of his choice. “My turn to pick? Sweet…” Dean beamed, flipping to the front of his book. “Ok, we gotta do something with a bit more action and maybe less chick parts…”

Sam watched as Cas leaned over to Dean and whispered close to his ear, pointing at something on the page. Dean looked up, asking something Sam guessed was along the lines of ‘Really?’ A nod from Cas and a few more quiet words and Dean turned back to Sam, smiling.

“Henry Vee.” Dean Declared. Sam bit his lips as Cas again muttered something quickly to Dean. “Henry the Fifth,” Dean corrected. “And this time, I get to be the freaking king.”

Sam smiled, shaking his head.

“Ok, man, remember, u _neasy is the head that wears the crown._ ”

Dean’s grin faltered in panic for only a second.

____ _ _

____~*~*~_ _ _ _

 

“Holy fuck,” Dean breathed, letting his head drop directly into his book. “I’m going to _kill them_.”

Ok, this couldn’t be that hard. He’d managed the first play and the rhyming, and he could do an exorcism in his sleep and that was in Latin. He could do this. Dean took a deep breath, straightening back up on the edge of his mattress and shifting the book so he could see the enormous block of words more clearly in the yellow light of his single lamp.

_“The mercy that was quick in us but late_   
_By your own counsel is suppressed and kill’d;_   
_You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;_   
_For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,_   
_As dogs upon their masters…"_

Dean paused, raising an eyebrow. Old William didn’t like dogs either, point to him.

A small noise from the darkened hall startled him and he jumped up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Dean relaxed at the low sound of Cas’ voice as the dark-haired man looked in through the half-open door.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Dean replied. “Sorry if I was bugging you.”

“You weren’t.” Cas shook his head.

“I figured the snoring would drown me out,” Dean shrugged. “Ya know, Sam I’m used to, but Kevin…”

“It is surprising the that so much noise can come from such a small person,” Cas agreed, knitting his brow. “It may be beneficial to him to get his sinuses examined.”

Dean smiled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Thank god the downgrade to human hadn’t changed Cas too much. “So, why are you up?” Dean glanced at the mug in Cas’ hands. “Going for some ‘Tea. Earl Gray. Hot?’”

Cas tilted his head in confusion.

“Oh yeah, you haven’t made it to _The Next Generation_ yet…” Dean sighed.

“I was awake and I…I heard you talking,” Cas explained, a little awkwardly. “What are you doing?”

Dean looked down at the play open on the bed, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was, uh…reading a bit ahead, you know; so I won’t screw anything up…”

“You were rehearsing?” Cas asked, not a whiff of judgment in his voice.

“Yeah, I guess that’s sort of…yeah…” Dean confirmed, rolling his eyes. “I am so screwed, man. This guy just… _talks_. And it’s way harder stuff than the last one. This is like Cadillac Shakespeare and we’ve been cruising around in a rusty pick-up.”

 ____“____ You don’t need to be nervous, you know,” Cas offered. “None of us will think any less of you if you do something incorrectly, which I don’t even really think is possible when reading aloud. And it’s very unlikely that you will come off as a unintelligent…”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean cut him off. “Remind me in a week to go over how to give a pep talk again, okay?”

“Of course,” Cas nodded.

Dean shook his head and rubbed his hand over his forehead and through his hair. “How’s the hand?” he asked, gesturing for Cas to come in from the hall.

Cas took a seat in Dean’s desk chair as Dean slouched back onto the bed.

“It’s fine. I don’t think there will be permanent damage,” Cas replied, looking up at Dean as he cradled his tea in his hands. The dim light made his eyes seem a darker blue than usual.

“Good, we wouldn’t want you to get turned off from punching dickbags,” Dean smiled and Cas smiled back, shaking his head.

“Especially when they when they get annoying,” Cas murmured.

Dean grinned and shook his head, enjoy the sparkle in Cas’s eyes and the small, mischievous smile.

“Man, it’s a good we’re doing this Shakespeare thing, because you have got some pretty bad examples on how to be a good human,” Dean exhaled.

Cas squinted at him. “Dean, that’s not true."

“Ok, yeah, I guess Kevin isn’t so bad; jury’s out on Sam…”

“Dean, I think you’re an excellent example of a good human,” Cas pushed back, his eyes locked on Dean with an intensity Dean was surprised to see had survived the loss of his grace.

“Yeah, sure…” Dean murmured, looking away.

“Is this about what Crowley said?” He leaned close and touched Dean's arm to draw his attention back. Though Cas’ eyes were still the same as always, his voice and concern had a human quality that was still new and fascinating.

“Well he did make a good point; I do have a record of screwing things up,” Dean muttered.

“You don’t. And even if it were true...” 

“Which it is.” This earned Dean a small glare.

“Henry is a good part for you,” Cas replied sternly, sitting back.

Dean blinked. Had he missed part of the conversation? “Huh?”

“King Henry, he’s a good part for you. I’ve been doing some…reading as well, and, well…You know Henry is in two other plays, right?” Cas explained. Dean raised an eyebrow. “His father’s plays, _Henry IV_ parts one and two.”

“Shakespeare did sequels?”

“Well, in those plays Henry, or Prince Hal as he’s called….”

“How do you get ‘Hal’ from Henry?”

“Dean, please concentrate.”

Dean swallowed and nodded for Cas to go on.

“Well, Hal is, what I think you might refer to as ‘a huge screw up,’ on purpose.” Cas continued solemnly. “He spends all his time playing pranks and drinking and cavorting around with an old knight named Falstaff.”

“Oh, yeah…he’s mentioned in this one, I think he died…” Dean muttered.

“Hal does it because he’s afraid of his future as a king, but when his father dies he…makes the decision to cast off those things and be a good king. He’s a bit of a hero before that, but, as you can see, he becomes one of the great kings in English history, winning one of their greatest battles. Do you see what I mean?”

“That I used to drink and screw around too much before and I could still rule England?” Dean smirked back.

“That you may have done things in the past you now think are foolish, or that you regret; but, despite all that, you still are a great man,” Cas told him sincerely, his eyes almost shining.

“A great man?” Dean echoed quietly, shaking his head.

“Dean, you’re the best man I know; that I’ve ever known…” Cas answered softly. Dean felt words catch in his throat and his cheeks warm just a bit. He was almost relieved and almost disappointed when it was Cas who looked away, scanning some innocuous detail of the walls. “Besides, you have repeatedly saved the entire planet, which anyone would find impressive.”

“Cas…” Dean breathed and again blue eyes were boring into him. “I take back what I said about your pep talks.” A warm smile broke across Cas’ face and he gave a low laugh.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas replied.

"That all applies to you too, you know," Dean reminded him and Cas shook his head.

"We aren't talking about me," he murmured, his eyes growing sad.

“Well, neither of our pep talk has anything on old Hal here though,” Dean added, turning away and shaking off the moment. “I mean, even I've heard of some of these speeches…” Dean retrieved the play and flipped back a few pages to Act Three. “ _Once more unto the breech, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead!_ Classic stuff.”

Dean tilted the book towards the light so that Cas could see it better. The other man stood hesitantly and took a seat beside Dean on the edge of the bed. Dean gave him a small nudge with his elbow, indicating his place with a finger.

“ _In peace there’s nothing that so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility,_ ” Cas read carefully, seeming to savor the words.

“ _But when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger _,”__ Dean continued, smiling as few notes of eighties rock began to play in his head _ _.__

“ _Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood_ ,” Cas read and Dean’s heart began to beat harder, the remembered thrill of a fight echoing in his veins. “ _Disguise fair nature with hard favour’d rage_.” Cas pronounced each word as if he was tasting them.

“ _Now, set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide; Hold hard the breath and bend every spirit to hiss full height_!” Dean went on, his voice rising a bit as he imagined an eager army hanging on his words.

“ _On, on you noble Englishmen_!” Cas echoed, his voice filled with both fierceness and joy; a broad smile on his face. “ _Dishounour not your mothers; Now attest that those you call’d fathers did beget you_!” Cas rumbled and Dean grinned.

“ _Be copy now to men of grosser blood, and teach them how to war!_ ” Dean growled, his lips twisting over the wondrous, hot words. “ _And you, good yeomen, whose limbs were made in England, show us here the mettle of your pasture._ "

“ _Let us swear that you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not;_ ” Cas followed immediately. “ _For there is none of you so mean and base, that hath not noble lustre in your eyes._ ”

“ _I see you stand, like greyhounds in the slips_ ,” Dean almost roared. “ _Straning at the start. The game's afoot. Follow your spirit, and upon this charge…_ ” Dean caught Cas’ eye and they finished, crying out the last line in one voice.

“ _Cry – God for Harry! England! And Saint George_!” they howled just as a booming snore thundered from down the hall. Dean exploded in laughter, doubling over and goaded on by the feel and sound of Cas doing the same beside him. They laughed for what felt like an hour, learning on each other and fighting to breathe.

“God damn, those boys could sleep through a bomb,” Dean groaned, wiping his eyes.

“It is impressive, I am quite envious really,” Cas agreed and Dean had to stop himself from dissolving into more laughter. “That was an excellent reading, Dean, you’ll do wonderfully tomorrow.”

Dean smiled at the incredibly human and sincere man beside him, allowing himself a moment to believe and entertain the thought that he could be half the man Cas saw.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Dean sighed and earned a return smile. Cas’ face suddenly changed, his eyes widening a bit.

“Dean, I…I have an idea. For you,” Cas explained, incredible innocence and hope in his face.

Dean didn’t have the energy to argue with Cas or tell himself that he wouldn’t go along with it. It was two am, and his room was full of warmth and golden light and someone who truly believed he was good and important and he didn’t want to say a damn thing to end that.

 

~*~*~

 

“Maybe there’s traffic,” Sam suggested, glancing for the fourth time at the clock.

“Dude, there’s no traffic in the middle-of-nowhere Kansas,” Dean shot back, his expression stony. "I'm sure she's...fine..."

“Why are they so concerned?” Castiel asked Kevin quietly, crossing his arms. As far as he could tell Charlie was only a quarter of an hour late and there had been no discernable demonic activity in the area lately. Also, he was quite sure she had a mobile phone.

“It’s a brother thing, I think,” Kevin answered thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. I’m an only child. Could also be the tendency of people they know to, you know…”

“Die terribly.” Castiel finished and Kevin nodded. Castiel considered the answer. “My siblings were never concerned for me in such a manner, however angels usually don’t bother with worry.”

“Yeah, and you had a lot more of them,” Kevin agreed. “Right?”

“Many thousands, yes…” Castiel murmured back, looking down at the scuffed toes of his boots. “Human families are quite different.”

“Hey, I hear a car,” Sam exclaimed and Kevin bolted from beside Cas with no indication he had heard his last words.

“I told you not to freak out,” Dean chided, cuffing on the shoulder as they made their way out of the bunker door, Kevin following, with Castiel tentatively bringing up the rear.

Castiel had spent a strange amount of time considering that this was one of the first friends of the Winchesters he had met since he had fallen. They talked about Charlie Bradbury with inspiring affection and admiration. He hoped he could make a favorable impression.

“What’s up, bitches!” a gleeful voice called from beside a yellow car. In a second Sam and Dean were exchanging hugs with a lovely, red-headed woman with an eager smile and laughing eyes.

“Hey, kid,” Dean murmured, ruffling Charlie’s hair. “We’ve got some got some new recruits for the army of the moon for you to inspect.” Charlie followed the brothers to where Kevin and Castiel were waiting. “This is Kevin Tran, he’s a prophet,” Dean explained as Kevin offered Charlie a hand.

“Like, a prophet prophet?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, it kind of sucks,” Kevin replied with a shrug. He smiled as he shook Charlie’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“And this is…” Dean began and Charlie’s eyes turned toward Castiel then widened a bit.

“Castiel?” Charlie finished. Castiel swallowed and nodded. “The angel?”

“Not any more,” Castiel muttered. “I am still happy to finally meet you.” Castiel held out his hand. To his surprise he was suddenly pulled into a surprisingly strong hug. He glanced at Dean over Charlie’s shoulder. He was smiling, which meant this was acceptable.

“Ditto,” Charlie grinned, pulling back. She leaned back a bit and looked seriously at Dean. “Dude, you were _not_ kidding.”

Castiel knit his brows. “I don’t think I understand...”

“Dean has...mentioned you,” Charlie explained. “I didn’t think you would actually be that pretty.”

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam held back a snicker.

“This body originally belonged to a different soul, who is no longer in it,” Castiel explained. “I cannot take any credit for it’s physical attributes.”

“Yup, he was totally not kidding,” Charlie smiled, shaking her head.

Castiel sighed, confused again and making a note to ask…someone what that meant. He watched as Dean wrapped an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and began to guide her back into the bunker, Sam carrying her bag behind them.

“So, queen of the hackers, do you think what we talked about is possible?” Dean asked.

“Possible; maybe. Easy; no,” Charlie answered. Cas could hear a bit of trepidation in her voice. “It’s a kind of crazy plan, but crazy in an awesome way.”

Cas smiled to himself. It was good to hear another person remind Dean that he was far more brilliant than he knew.

“Well, if anyone can make it work, it’s gonna be you,” Dean encouraged, giving Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze.

Castiel’s smile broadened, watching the king rally the troops.

 

~*~*~

 

“Ok, this is going to take a while to process before we can do a test,” Charlie declared. “Nothing to do but wait a while.”

“Good. I’m calling it a night for research.” Sam pushed his huge pile of papers away and dropped his pen.

“Oh thank god,” Dean groaned dramatically. Kevin gave an exhausted nod in agreement. Even Cas looked a little bleary eyed. The progress they had made was worth it though, Sam thought.

“So, I’m the guest, entertain me,” Charlie prompted, looking over the tired faces surrounding her. “What do you guys do for fun around here?”

Sam opened his mouth, trying to find the best words. Kevin looked suddenly terrified, though Dean and Cas looked only mildly concerned.

“What? Do you do have meeting for some sort of boys only club?” Charlie pushed.

“We’ve been reading plays.” Of course it was Cas that confessed.

Charlie’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning. “Plays?” she almost squealed.

“Just a few…” Dean deflected.

“Shakespeare, actually,” Sam clarified. “We’re trying to, uh, catch Cas up on the highlights of human achievement.”

“I am so proud of you guys,” Charlie giggled. “As your queen, I demand a performance.”

“It’s not really a performance…” Kevin protested. Sam was surprised that Dean hadn’t been the one to argue. In fact he looked almost excited. “And we’re in the middle…”

“Can’t watch unless you play too, your majesty,” Dean said smoothly, cutting off Kevin.

“Hells yeah, count me in,” Charlie agreed. “What is the play and my part?”

“ _Henry V_ and we’re in act four, so you can be a lord and, if Kevin will let you steal it from him, the French Princess in act five…”

“Oh please god yes,” Kevin whimpered.

“What’s wrong Kev? Stage fright?” Sam snickered.

“I thought your accent the other day was highly amusing myself,” Cas added and Kevin buried his face in his hands.

“Come on, we can’t all be great thespians like Dean,” Sam clucked.

“Yeah…Wait, what did you call me?”

After laughing a bit too long at Dean and Kevin’s expense, they were soon seated in the den, books open in front of them. Sam with his own, Kevin and Charlie sharing and Dean and Cas bent over their edition as usual.

Charlie of course knew the play, and didn’t need to be caught up. Sam almost wished they could go back to the beginning so Charlie could experience everything he’d seen in the last few days. Dean had been, to put it simply, kind of amazing. There had been more that one time that they had all caught themselves forgetting that they had to speak next and getting lost in his words. Though last night they had stopped abruptly in the middle of the act, just before the battle of Agincourt was to begin. There had been some reason behind it that only Dean and Cas had seemed to understand.

“Alright, are we ready?” Dean asked, and everyone sat up a bit taller. “Ok, act four, scene three…The English camp… _Where is the King?_ ” Dean read on behalf of a minor lord.

“ _The king himself is rode to view their battle,_ ” Kevin replied, his voice steady enough.

“ _Of fighting men they have full three score thousand, _”__ Charlie chimed in as Westmoreland, acting out the hopeless fear of the lord _ _.__

“ _There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh_ ,” Cas replied in turn as Exeter, his gravel voice carrying easily through the room.

“ _God's arm strike with us! 'Tis a fearful odds,_ ” Sam exclaimed. It wasn’t hard at all to imagine going into a fight with the entire world stacked against you. Not even imagine, really, just remember. Sam continued:

“ _God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge:_  
 _If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,_  
 _Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,_  
 _My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,_  
 _And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!"_

“ _Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!_ " Kevin pronounced.

Sam sent up a silent thank you that no one had made another Salisbury steak joke. Cas came in, stoic and resolved:

“ _Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day:_  
 _And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,_  
 _For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour."_

“And I…exit. Ok,” Sam shrugged. This was good, it meant he could just watch everyone else.

“ _He is full of valour as of kindness; princely in both,_ ” Kevin read.

“King Henry enters…” Dean muttered.

“ _O that we now had here but one ten thousand of those men in England that do no work to-day!_ ” Charlie pined.

“ _What's he that wishes so?_ ” The ferocity in the king’s question made everyone jump and stare at Dean. He was staring at Charlie with a look Sam had rarely seen outside of an apocalypse.

“ _My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin:_  
 _If we are mark'd to die, we are enow_  
 _To do our country loss; and if to live,_  
 _The fewer men, the greater share of honour._ ”

Sam watched as Charlie and Kevin both gulped as Dean recited his lines, never looking away. Sam blinked, looking back at his own copy of the play then to Dean. Dean wasn’t reading…He had the speech memorized.

Dean stood, setting down his book and rising up to his full height. He moved slowly though the room, looking each of them in the face as he spoke, his voice and eyes full of fire.

“ _God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more._  
 _By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,_  
 _Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;_  
 _It yearns me not if men my garments wear;_  
 _Such outward things dwell not in my desires:_  
 _But if it be a sin to covet honour,_  
 _I am the most offending soul alive._ ”

Dean gave a confident smirk, meeting Sam’s eyes. He took a deep breath and stepped back, so he could clearly see everyone. Sam wondered if anyone else was developing goosebumps.

“ _No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England:_  
 _God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour_  
 _As one man more, methinks, would share from me_  
 _For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!_  
 _Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,_  
 _That he which hath no stomach to this fight,_  
 _Let him depart; his passport shall be made_  
 _And crowns for convoy put into his purse:_  
 _We would not die in that man's company_  
 _That fears his fellowship to die with us_.”

Sam realized that he was holding his breath, and from what he could tell from the electricity in the room, he wasn’t alone. Dean took a deep breath, his eyes now fixed on Cas, whose face was filled with absolute awe.

 _"This day is called the feast of Crispian:_  
 _He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,_  
 _Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,_  
 _And rouse him at the name of Crispian._  
 _He that shall live this day, and see old age,_  
 _Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,_  
 _And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'_  
 _Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars._  
 _And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'_  
 _Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,_  
 _But he'll remember with advantages_  
 _What feats he did that day: then shall our names._  
 _Familiar in his mouth as household words_  
 _Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,_  
 _Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,_ ”

Dean nodded towards each of them in turn, pronouncing and enflaming each word with power and hope.

“ _Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd._  
 _This story shall the good man teach his son;_  
 _And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,_  
 _From this day to the ending of the world,_  
 _But we in it shall be remember'd;"_

Dean paused, scanning the faces of the rapt audience, his shining eyes softening, filling not just with ferocity but with trust, hope and affection.

“ _We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;_  
 _For he to-day that sheds his blood with me_  
 _Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,_  
 _This day shall gentle his condition:"_

Dean swore, eyes falling on Sam, Kevin, Cas and Charlie one by one. Then once again his voice was rising to a roar that made Sam ready to take on…anything

“ _And gentlemen in England now a-bed_  
 _Shall think themselves accursed they were not here_  
 _And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks_  
 _That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day!_

Sam’s book fell on the floor as he shot up from his chair, clapping as hard as he could. It took a second to realize that Cas, Kevin and Charlie had done the same. Dean looked down, grinning bashfully at the applause. Sam laughed in amazement, glancing at their friends. Both Charlie and Kevin looked slightly misty-eyed, and Cas…Cas was beaming. Sam wasn’t sure he had ever seen someone look quite so adoring and proud. Then again, he couldn’t see his own face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those curious about the plays used and mentioned should check out the BBC's recent miniseries "The Hollow Crown."


	4. "I all alone beweep my outcast state"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a tense day in the bunker, as the boys pause between plays. Luckily, they find other ways to communicate, some more poetic than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst and feels are amping up! The next chapter will likely be pretty hefty, so be prepared.
> 
> See the end for notes on the poems used.

“Whoa, did something attack you?” Dean asked with a chuckle the moment Castiel entered the kitchen.

Castiel flinched, looking away and biting the inside of his cheek. He had hoped no one would notice, but Dean, of course noticed everything. And had to comment on it. “I…I’m still getting the hang of human…grooming habits…” he muttered. Annoyingly, blushing was probably making the myriad cuts on his face even more visible.

“Man, are you still using the first razor we gave you?” Sam asked, both kind and bewildered.

Castiel found himself glaring at both Sam and Dean. Kevin was very pointedly reading the ingredient list on a box of premade breakfast pastries. “Is there a reason I should not?” Castiel asked, trying to be patient.

“Well, they get dull and make your face look like…well, like that,” Dean answered as if it was obvious. It probably was obvious, which made Castiel feel all the more ridiculous.

Castiel collapsed into a chair, sighing in frustration. “That would have been helpful to know,” he grumbled.

“You can always grow a beard,” Sam suggested with an unconvincing smile.

“No, I find that to be far too…scratchy,” Castiel answered tersely. He looked away as Dean stifled a small laugh. “And I am quite capable of mastering something this simple."

“Yeesh, you’re just a fluffy kitten of joy this morning, Cas,” Dean smirked over his coffee.

Castiel’s eyes snapped up, an angry retort forming in his mouth, but the brief look of apprehension and contrition in Dean’s face stopped him. Castiel took a deep breath. “I apologize,” he muttered. “I did not sleep very well…”

“Again?” Sam asked with genuine concern.

Dean gave Castiel a dark look as he rose from the table and moved towards the cabinets.

“Yes, again. It’s ironic, I used to be able to listen to the voices of my brothers and sisters and the prayers of humanity, and yet now when I can’t hear anything, my own thoughts are too loud.”

“At least you’re poetic about,” Dean smiled over his shoulder as he busied himself with something on the counter.

“Sam, you’ve suffered inhuman amounts of pain and torment, how are you able to sleep so well?” Castiel inquired. Sam stared at him with a rather befuddled expression. “Your snoring does give the impression that you sleep well and deeply.”

“Yeah, Sammy, what’s your secret?” Dean pushed with a half smile, returning to the table and setting a mug of tea in front of Cas.

“I don’t know…nearly dying trying to shut down hell took a lot out of me,” Sam answered haltingly. “I guess I’m still just…really tired at the end of the day.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Dean said under his breath, fixing Sam with a frown.

Castiel ignored Sam’s slightly guilty shrug and took a long swig of tea. It helped a bit. “What about you?” he asked, turning to Kevin.

Kevin looked a bit surprised to be asked and carefully swallowed his pastry before answering. “Ummm…mostly Ambien,” Kevin answered uneasily. Castiel tilted his head, trying to understand the answer and Kevin’s trepidation. Kevin glanced around and then back with a sigh. “They’re pills. My mom she…used to take them and…”

“Pharmaceuticals?” Castiel had not considered that humans had already created a medical answer to sleeplessness.

“Yeah,” Kevin nodded. He looked confused for some reason. “Do you...want to try one?”

“Would it…”

“ _No._ ”

Their attention snapped back to Dean. His face was grim and there was something very much like fury in his eyes.

“Dean…” Castiel murmured, a question and an apology for whatever unknown line had been crossed.

“No freakin’ pills,” Dean ordered. His eyes turned to Kevin. “And you…what the hell, Kev? How much are you taking?” Kevin’s face turned stony. “And where the hell are you getting them?”

“Well, the first bottle was yours,” Kevin shot back. “So you tell me.”

Dean looked like Kevin had slapped him. He glanced to Sam, who was still looking sheepish and then to Castiel. Castiel felt the strange urge to disappear into his chair. Without a warning Dean stood from the table.

“We need bread,” Dean stated tensely. He turned on his heel and headed to the door then looked back over his shoulder at Castiel. “You comin’? We’ll get razors.”

Castiel scrambled up, taking one more gulp of tea and looking nervously towards Sam and Kevin, who remained motionless.

“You…deal with him,” Dean commanded Sam through gritted teeth. “And _I_ will deal with _you_ later. Call me if Charlie gets in touch about the beta test…thing. Come on, Cas.”

Castiel followed Dean’s swift strides through the bunker, still confused, but glad he had managed to dress already. In a less than a minute they were seated in the Impala and Dean’s hands were clutched hard on the steering wheel.

“You’ve got that anti-angel amulet on, right?” Dean asked shortly.

“Yes, of course,” Castiel replied. Dean gave a curt nod and the engine roared to life.

The town of Lebanon was about twenty minutes from the bunker, however Castiel estimated that, at current speeds, they would reach it in half that time. He swallowed uneasily. For some reason his mouth was dry and that he could not find anything appropriate to say.

“Did I…do something wrong?” he finally asked.

“What?” Dean huffed. “No.”

“Then…why are you upset?”

Dean gave him a quick, sideways glance, his lips pursing tighter. “It’s halfway through 2013.”

Castiel knit his brows, hoping that staring at Dean would make the last statement make more sense.

Dean sighed, the grip of his hand on the steering wheel relaxing a bit. “Zachariah. When he was screwing with me, trying to get me to say yes, and freaking flash-forwarded me. He sent me to 2014,” Dean explained gruffly.

“The future where Sam had said yes to Lucifer and I was…”.

“A drugged-out man-whore, yeah,” Dean confirmed, eyes set grimly on the road.

“Dean, I highly doubt that future will happen…” Castiel tried to console. Dean took what sounded like a difficult breath, almost like he was…afraid. “But, if you like, I…I promise not to experiment with any substances.”

“You do?” Dean turned to Castiel, finally slowing the car to only ten miles over the posted speed limit.

“Of course. The last thing I wish to do is…disappoint you further than I already have,” Castiel answered, forcing himself to look away from Dean’s bewildered eyes.  “I’m already quite pathetic enough as it is...”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean balked.

“This,” Cas answered, gesturing in dismay at his body. Useless hands, weak arms, faded clothes and dirty boots. “All of this.”

“You mean being human?”

“I don’t want to be any weaker than I already am,” Castiel nodded. To his surprise, when he looked up, Dean was shaking his head and smiling.

“Dude, you do remember that _I’m_ human, right?” Dean lifted his eyebrows high. “Sam too. Mostly. I think.”

“You two are extraordinary examples though…”

Dean was shaking his head before Cas could even finish the argument. “Yeah, well, you’re extraordinary too, moron,” Dean grumbled. Castiel tried not to roll his eyes. “I’m serious. You’re brave. And you...you care about doing what’s right, even when it’s impossible. Powers or not, you’re braver and stronger than any of those other winged douche-waffles.”

Castiel smiled, despite himself, somehow warmed by the words and fire behind them. “Thank you, Dean."

“Hey.” Dean jerked his chin and caught Cas’ eyes, a half smile playing on his lips. “I’ve got faith in you, Cas, that won’t ever change.”

For some reason, the words didn’t just make Castiel smile more broadly. They made something sting behind his eyes and pull deep inside him. If he had not known it to be physically impossible, he would have even said the feeling was within his very heart.

 

~*~*~

 

“We need to talk,” Sam whispered, grabbing Dean and pulling him into the hall the minute he returned to the bunker.

“Seriously, Sammy, could you at least wait? Five freakin’ minutes of quiet time, that's all I ask,” Dean groaned.

“Dude, you two were gone for three hours, you’ve had your quiet time,” Sam snapped back. Dean opened his mouth to answer then thought better of it. “It’s Kevin. I’m worried about him.”

“You talked to him about the pills?” Dean asked, keeping his voice low.

“I tried, but…well…he made some valid points,” Sam in exasperation. Dean’s eyes went wide.

“Valid points? What? Did he get a freaking prescription?” Dean snarled back.

“No, but he’s sleeping a hundred feet from the demon that tortured him and probably killed his mom,” Sam snapped back.

“Wait, this is about _Crowley_?” Dean gaped. “That ass-hat has killed people all of us care about, you don’t see me losing sleep over it.” Sam tilted his head, pursing his lips in an expression Dean had seen a few thousand times too many. “Ok, I’m not losing sleep over that specifically…”

“Dean, we need to do something,” Sam sighed.

“We?” Dean parroted. “How is this a we thing? I’ve already dealt with my quota of emo crap for the day.”

Sam bit his tongue, trying to remain as calm as possible. “So, what, you get to deal with Cas because you and he have your weird…” Sam gestured vaguely at Dean. “Thing, bond, whatever going on, and I have to deal with Kevin?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered with a thin, cool smile. “Exactly. Divide and conquer.” He clapped Sam on the shoulder and turned away. Sam’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to form an adequate argument.

“Dean…” Sam growled as he followed Dean into the den. To his shock, Cas was already there with Kevin, deep in conversation. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sam,” Cas said, looking up and giving them a calm smile. “Don’t worry.”

Sam looked at Dean, who seemed just as bewildered as he felt.

“I’m fine, guys,” Kevin muttered. “And I’m…gonna see if there are better ways to sleep. Maybe.”

“Cas, you…” Dean stammered.

Sam had no idea how that question was going to end, since Cas nodded and smiled at Dean. Sam wished he knew what Cas had said to Kevin, and more than that, what Dean had said to Cas on the three-hour grocery run. It had to have been something because they were sharing one of those long, secret stares that made him feel like he should back away and leave then to whatever psychic conversation they were having.

“Thanks,” Dean almost whispered. “Good work.”

“Yeah…thanks…” Sam muttered and wondered if the two of them even heard him.

 

~*~*~

 

“ _A woman’s face, with nature’s own hand painted, Hast thou the master mistress of my passion_ …Dude, what the hell does that even _mean_?” Dean exclaimed, startling everyone in the room.

The looks of confusion he was getting made him think Sam had a point about keeping certain commentaries inside his brain.

“What are you reading?” Cas asked, more curious than concerned.

“Uh…sonnets…” Dean muttered, almost wishing the answer was porn because that at least wouldn’t have earned him that ridiculous grin on Sam’s face. “Well, Kevin hasn’t picked a new play and…”

“You were just jonesing for some iambic pentameter?” Sam mocked.

Dean sank lower into the cushions of the couch.

“Wait? It’s my choice?” Kevin asked hopefully.

“Yeah, man, of course, we’ve all had a chance,” Dean answered, grateful for the distraction.

“Oh, that’s easy then,” Kevin smiled. “ _The Merchant of Venice_.”

“I’ve heard of that one,” Cas smiled proudly, glancing around for acknowledgement of the accomplishment. Dean gave him a ‘good on you’ nod.

“Why that one?” Sam asked.

“We were reading in my AP senior English class when…” Kevin’s face and voice faltered and darkened.

“When you got all prophesized,” Dean finished for him.

“Yeah,” Kevin confirmed with a sad nod. “I always wanted to know how it ended.”

“Good enough reason for me,” Dean shrugged. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

“You don’t want to start now?” Sam asked a bit too smugly. “Too engrossed in your sonnets?”

“Bite me,” Dean scowled at Sam.

“You know the one you were reading…it was Sonnet 20, right?” Sam asked with a smile that made Dean nervous.

“Yeah…How did you know that?”

“Studied it in college, it’s kind of famous,” Sam explained casually. “He’s basically saying it’s a shame that the person he’s writing the poem for is a man, rather than a woman, cause obviously their relationship would be less complicated that way.”

“What?” Dean asked, sitting up straight and diving back into the book in his hand. He read and reread the lines, forehead knit in concentration. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the sonnets that scholars theorize were written to men,” Sam continued with a smile. “The ' _shall I compare thee to a summer’s day_  'one is the most famous, I think.”

“Dude wasn’t gay though,” Dean pushed back, though he didn’t quite know why he cared. Despite that, Dean flipped several pages further. He was sure he remembered seeing something… “See, here:  _My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…_ ” Dean looked up to Sam smiling in triumph. “Wait, what?”

“Maybe he went both way, being bisexual is a legit thing,” Sam suggested but Dean was already laughing too much to respond. “What’s so funny?”

“Dude, listen to this…it’s freaking harsh!” Dean declared. He cleared he throat and straightened his back before reading aloud.

“ _My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;_  
 _Coral is far more red than her lips' red;_  
 _If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;_  
 _If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head."_

He made it through the mention of breasts without snickering, but he couldn't stop himself from looking up at Cas at the mention of black hair. At least the former angel was smiling.

“ _I have seen roses damasked, red and white,_  
 _But no such roses see I in her cheeks;_  
 _And in some perfumes is there more delight_  
 _Than in the breath that from my mistress…reeks.”_

“Ok, you do have a point,” Sam muttered.

“Oh it gets better," Dean chided and continued:

 _“I love to hear her speak, yet well I know_  
 _That music hath a far more pleasing sound;_  
 _I grant I never saw a goddess go;_  
 _My mistress when she walks treads on the ground._ ”

“I do doubt that this was an effective means of winning this woman’s affections,” Cas interjected this time.

“See, that’s why he ends it like this;” Dean grinned, looking at Cas rather than the page as he finished. The rhyme was easy to remember.

“ _And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare_  
 _As any she belied with false compare._ ”

Dean watched as Cas’ dour interest dissolved into a smile that went all the way to his eyes. He almost looked like he was blushing, but that would be weird.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Sam declared out of nowhere. “Before you start reading more love poems. I’ve got enough nightmare fuel, thanks very much."

“Shut up, you love it,” Dean snapped back.

Sam waved him off as he left the room.

“Yeah, me too…” Kevin added, gathering up the books he had been working on and departing. “Night, guys.”

“Hey, if you leave too I’m gonna start feeling insecure,” Dean warned Cas.

“I won’t,” Cas agreed with a shake of his head. “And for the record I think that was an excellent reading.”

“Thanks,” Dean brushed off the compliment with a laugh and a glance at the ground. “So, what did you say to Kev? I’ve been wondering,” Dean asked, looking to the door where Kevin has just disappeared.

“Nothing brilliant,” Cas shrugged. “I just told him that…I understood if he felt angry and hopeless based on his current situation.”

“Oh, just that?”

Cas sent Dean a irritated glare. “I told him that he needs to remember that…we all care for him, and we don’t wish him to do anything to harm himself; no matter how tempting that may be,” Cas explained.

Dean felt a small tightening in his chest. “Were you speaking from…personal experience?” Dean asked hesitantly. Cas looked guiltily towards the floor. “Cas?”

“Yes,” Cas confessed with a shrug.

“I didn’t know…I mean I wondered…” Dean stammered, his panic rising.

“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas consoled him, meeting his eyes once again. “I’m okay. I won’t…I won’t do anything.”

“You sure about that?” Dean demanded, remembering all the times before that Cas had thrown himself into penance and pain.

“Dean, there were…there _are_ times when I feel…” Cas paused, looking around as if he could find the words hidden somewhere in the half-lit den. “When I feel completely lost, and cut off and…miserable. And I want to give up and just…”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Cas’ eyes stopped him.

“But I don’t. Because…”

Dean held his breath.

“Because you said you needed me,” Cas told him, his voice low and sincere. “And so, I hold on to that. To you. To all of you.”

Dean remained perfectly still, replaying the words in his head and making sure they were real. Cas gave him a small smile and turned away, leaning back on the couch, setting aside the book he had been reading.

“Will you read another sonnet?” Cas asked, snapping Dean out of the moment.

“What? Oh, uh, sure.”

Cas smiled again as Dean leafed through the pages. It took him a while to even to clearly make out a title or words. He was obviously tired from a long day of too many deep conversations. That had to be it. Nothing else.

“ _When to the sessions of sweet silent thought..._ ”

 

____~*~*~_ _ _ _

 

The air was on fire and full of the sounds of screams. Molten hot chains were pulling him downward and the sky itself was burning to ash around him.

Castiel sat bolt upright, gasping for air. The dim quiet of the den was like cool water, pushing back the nightmare. He breathed deep, trying to regain his bearings in reality. He was damp with cold sweat and his heart was pounding. But at least he’d been asleep. That was something.

It was troubling that he didn’t really remember deciding to sleep, and that somehow he had ended up back in the den, on the couch in his usual spot as if he hadn’t moved...A soft noise, like a muffled word mixed with a sigh startled Castiel from his thoughts. He relaxed the moment he saw what the source was. Now it made sense.

Dean was there, his head resting at an awkward angle on the back of the couch, eyes closed and mouth just a bit open. The leather bound volume of Shakespeare was still open on beneath his hand on his lap. Somehow they had dozed off in the middle of reading. The thought made Castiel smile, even though a strange dull ache intensified inside him at the same time.

Dean shifted, muttering again, his brow furrowing in something akin to worry or pain, Cas could not tell.

“Please don’t wake up, you need to rest,” Castiel said aloud, hoping somewhere in his dreams, Dean might hear him. He missed being able to see those dreams. And again came that strange ache, intensified by the lonely quiet of the room. He glanced at the clock. Three AM, the usual time for dark thoughts and regret. Dean shifted slightly, the book sliding from his hands.

“Should I read to you?” Castiel asked quietly, picking up the book and touching the page where Dean’s hand had been. It was still warm. “Alright, since you didn’t say no…” he murmured and scaned the page, trying to find where they must have left off, though Dean had seemed to be picking at random…

Cas stopped, a bittersweet smile stealing across his face. This one. It was perfect. He read softly, watching as Dean relaxed at the sound of the words.

“ _When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,_  
 _I all alone beweep my outcast state,_  
 _And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,_  
 _And look upon myself and curse my fate,_  
 _Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,_  
 _Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,_  
 _Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,_  
 _With what I most enjoy contented least;_  
 _Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,_  
 _Haply I think on thee, and then my state,_  
 _(Like to the lark at break of day arising_  
 _From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;_ ”

Cas paused, something catching in his throat as he read and glanced up at sleeping form beside him. The pit in his chest was suddenly filling with something strange and warm and terrifying that made it hard to breathe _ _ _ _._ _ _ _

“ _For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,_  
 _That then I scorn to change my state with kings._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sonnets used/mentioned in this chapter are, in order: 20, 130, 18, 30 and 29.


	5. "The Quality of Mercy"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean grow closer as the stakes at the bunker get higher: vengeance, demons, hackers and, of course, death and taxes.

Portia: _The quality of mercy is not strain’d_  
_It dropeth as the gentle rain from heaven_  
_Upon the place beneath._

William Shakespeare,  
_The Merchant of Venice_  , Act IV, scene i

 

~*~*~

 

“Ok, I think that’s…it,” Charlie declared unsteadily. “I hope.”

“Really?” Sam asked, looking to Charlie for confirmation. Everyone else was staring at her from around the long table with varying degrees of hope and interest in their eyes.

“I can’t tweak it any more. So…yeah,” Charlie answered, swallowing.

“So, time for a test?” Dean prompted. “I mean; that’s what we talked about. Right?”

“Yeah. We just need a name and a location,” Charlie agreed.

“So, who’s the lucky guinea pig?” Dean asked, turning expectantly to Sam.

Sam raked his hand through his hair, blinking at the spreadsheet on the computer screen in front of him. He had spent so much time in the last weeks going over the yellow pages covered in tight cursive that Crowley had generated that it made his head swim to think of it. “Well, we’ve got one in Provo, Utah…That’s not too far off, not too close to either so…” 

“Sounds like a plan, send me the info,” Charlie smiled.

“Why the hell is there a demon in Utah?” Dean balked, looking to Cas for an answer. The ex-angel shrugged and shook his head unable to explain. Sam gave a pleased smile when he read the address more closely.

“She works at IRS headquarters,” Sam explained, sending the contact to Charlie and closing his laptop.

“The IRS is in Utah?”

“There’s a demon at the IRS?”

Sam looked between Dean and Kevin, who had asked the second question. _There are two types of people,_ he thought to himself.

“What exactly is the ‘IRS’?” Cas asked, mostly directed at Dean, who gave him a tolerantly shocked look.

_There are two types of people…and then there’s Cas._

“I need more coffee,” Sam sighed.

In a few minutes Sam rejoined the group. They had moved to the den, Charlie taking a place nestled in a beanbag chair that Dean and Cas had added to the room two days ago.

“But _why_ do people pay taxes? What is the benefit to them?” Cas was asking Dean with intense seriousness.

“Well, people like having things like…I dunno…roads and police?” Dean answered, clearly getting frustrated.

“But you drive on roads but don’t pay taxes…” Cas countered.

Dean made an exasperated noise, rolling his eyes then looked to Charlie and Kevin, who were just watching the debate and smiling.

“A little help here, guys,” Dean begged. “Sammy?”

“Oh no, man, I want to hear this,” Sam grinned, seating himself in the wingback chair and taking a long sip of coffee.

“It’s…it’s just the way it is, okay? And if you don’t pay, you go to jail,” Dean tried to elaborate, earning only a new squint of confusion from Cas.

“But…you…”

“ _Normal people_ , Cas. Normal people,” Dean cut him off. This seemed to placate Cas at least a bit, as he remained quiet, considering the answer.

“So, Provo’s about a day’s drive,” Sam said easily. “Leave in the morning, test the day after?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed, leaning back and propping his feet on the coffee table as he stretched. “Cas, you wanna come along? Get some miles under your belt?”

Cas looked just about as startled at the suggestion as Sam felt. Though, whereas Cas seemed flattered, Sam was confused. Dean had been almost insufferably careful about keeping Cas safe in the bunker and off the radar of the angels and demons, and now he was suggesting bringing Cas on a hunt?

“Dean, are you sure?” Sam was the first to ask.

Dean looked between Sam and Cas, completely calm and casual. “Sure I’m sure,” Dean shrugged. “If it works then we don’t have to do anything other than observe and report, right?”

“And if it doesn’t?” Sam pushed back.

“Then we deal, maybe teach Cas how to do a regular exorcism if we’re lucky,” Dean answered cheerfully without missing a beat.

Sam really couldn’t argue with that. Not that there would be a point, since Dean had clearly made up his mind. “You ok with that, Cas?” Sam asked, finally drawing Cas’ attention away from Dean.

Cas glanced about nervously then gave a resolute nod. “Yes. I’d be very…very honored to help."

“So, Kevin and I…just…wait here?” Charlie asked uneasily. “With the king of hell locked in a file room?”

“It’s ok.” Sam was surprised that it had been Kevin who answered. “We’ve got holy water and guns. We can handle him if he acts up.” Kevin added, a troubling darkness in his voice.

Sam cast Dean a worried look, suddenly much more concerned about leaving Kevin to his own devices than about Dean suddenly promoting Cas to hunter.

“You sure about that?” Dean asked, his voice deep and serious and his eyes glued to Kevin.

“We’ll be fine,” Kevin replied tightly. “Charlie said she’d help me get through a new quest on Skyrim anyway.”

Dean gave Sam another glance, and Sam gave a nod of agreement.

“Okay,” Dean muttered, though he didn’t relax.

“So…Um, okay. Moment.” Charlie piped up, breaking the tension “Um, have you guys started another play?”

“We have,” Cas answered with a smile. “We finished act two of _The Merchant of Venice_ last night.”

“Oh, very cool, I studied that one back in that day,” Charlie cooed. “Maybe you guys can catch me up and I can snag a part? You are going to keep going, right?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean agreed, a bright grin breaking across his face. In a flash he was grabbing the books and handing them out.

“Ok, so…there’s this guy, Antonio, he’s the Merchant and he starts out the play super depressed,” Dean explained with a fervor that made Sam smile and shake his head.

“Oh yeah, cause his boyfriend sort of dumped him,” Charlie interjected.

“Boyfriend?” Sam echoed immediately, flipping to the first scene and trying to find what the hell she was talking about.

“Yeah, Bassanio. He’s broke and is going off to court this rich chick,” Dean agreed with an ease that made Sam blink a few times.

“Wait, how did the hell did you get that…” Sam stammered.

“Well, it’s kinda obvious,” Dean answered with a shrug. Sam continued to stare at him. “Come on. The guy hates jews, which makes him a dick, and hates Shylock in particular, but he still goes and borrows like a bajillion ducats from the guy so that Bassanio can run off and be a gold digger.”

“Don’t argue, Sam,” Charlie ordered. “The class where I read parts of this: queer literature seminar I audited.”

“That’s probably why we didn’t talk about that part in high school then,” Kevin muttered.

“Audited?” Dean asked, an eyebrow raised. Charlie gave him a sly smile. “She must have been cute.”

“Oh she was,” Charlie confirmed with a wink.

Cas looked back and forth between the Dean and Charlie, head slightly tilted as he tried to put together the pieces in his head.

“Anyway,” Dean continued. “Antonio borrows this money from Shylock, who really hates him and is kind of a jerk - and yeah, we talked about the racism stuff – and instead of asking for interest, Shylock says he’ll take a pound of Antonio’s flesh if Tony can’t pay back the money. Oh, and then Shylock’s daughter elopes with this dude Lorenzo, who is a friend of Bassanio and Antonio.”

“Though it doesn’t really say why she does it,” Cas interjected.

“Yeah it does,” Sam argued. Finally he was the one who got something. “She’s in love with him.”

“But…” Cas pushed back.

“Come on, we had this debate last night,” Dean cut him off.

Sam didn’t remember any such argument, but he had gone to bed before them.

“Yes, she leaves her whole freaking life and family and tribe or whatever, but peopledo dumb stuff like that when they’re in love.”

“Maybe you should check out _Romeo and Juliet_ next,” Charlie suggested with a smile.

“Also, her dad is, as we established, a jerk,” Dean cut off the curious look between Cas and Charlie with a loud cough. Cas gave a small scowl but didn’t argue any more.

“So, now Bassanio is trying to woo Portia,” Sam informed Charlie, who had pulled her bean bag over beside his chair. “She has all her suitors pick from three boxes; one gold, one silver and one lead. So far the gold and silver were wrong.”

“Ooo, who’s reading Portia? Can I steal that part?” Charlie asked excitedly.

“That would be me, and yes, please do,” Sam agreed instantly. Handing his book to Charlie.

“Cas is your Bassanio, Dean’s his friend Gratiano and Kev is your lady in waiting, Nerissa.”

“What bet did you lose?” Charlie asked Kevin with a wink.

“Well, I’m also reading Shylock, so it’s cool,” Kevin replied.

“Ok, we ready to do this?” Dean prompted. Everyone nodded and Dean smiled. “Ok. Engage.”

Sam was glad that Charlie had taken over as Portia. He liked reading but he was finding that what he liked even more was watching the performances of his brother and friends. It didn’t really surprise him that Dean had taken to it so much. He spent so much time pretending to be other people on hunts – FBI, reporters, normal – that playing a part came naturally once he relaxed.

Kevin got less nervous each time they read and had lately seemed to be truly enjoying himself along with everyone else. He was especially good as Shylock, tearing into the famous “ _If you prick us, do we not bleed?_ speech.

And then there was Cas. Cas wasn’t at the same level as Dean, but he was good. Surprisingly good for a guy who still didn’t quite get why people did dumb things when they were in love, or why Duck Dynasty was _not_ a good representation of humanity. There were times when he would ask a question about the lines, almost always to Dean, and deeply consider the answer before reading aloud in a very good approximation of real, human emotion.

Sam sat back in his chair as one such scene unfolded _ _ _._ _ _

“So, he chooses the lead casket because it’s _not_ beautiful?” Cas was confirming with Dean. “Because the outer appearance is not important?"

“Well, yeah that and the slogan written on it,” Dean was answering. “The gold one says whoever chooses it gets what he wants, the silver one says they get what they deserve, but the lead one…”

“Says that whoever chooses it must give and risk everything he has,” Cas finished for him, looking down at the page in deep thought.

"That's love, man," Charlie sighed.

In a second they were continuing, Portia pledging to marry Bassanio and Grantiano conveniently winning the affections of Nerissa. Sam did like the symmetry of it all. The next scene was Shylock and Dean as Antonio, whose ships had all been lost at sea. Shylock demanded his loan be repaid, knowing it is impossible, and then demands his pound of flesh. Sam joined in as Lorenzo, only a small twinge of sadness today at Jessica’s name. Portia is informed of Antonio’s problem and promises to tell Bassanio…

“Can we keep going?” Charlie asked as the finished act three. Sam glanced around the small circle and everyone nodded.

“We’re on a roll, why not?” Dean agreed.

“ _What, is Antonio here_ ,” Sam came in, now reading as the Duke of Venice presiding over the court.

And so Antonio and the Duke lamented that Shylock was, to put it nicely, a bastard. Shylock entered, railing for his pound of flesh, and refusing offers of double the debt. Kevin was on a role, his cheeks flushed and his voice thick as he read.

Charlie entered as Portia disguised as a lawyer, pleading for mercy for her husband’s friend. Or boyfriend. Sam was still unclear on that.

“ _The quality of mercy is not strain’d_  
_It dropeth as the gentle rain from heaven_  
_Upon the place beneath,: it is twice bless’d:_  
_It blesseth him that gives it and him that takes;_  
_‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes_  
_The thrones monarch better than his crown;_  
_His scepter shows the force of temporal power,_  
_The attribute of awe and majesty,_  
_Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;_  
_But mercy is above this scepter’d sway –_  
_It is enthroned in the heart of kings._  
_It is an attribute of God himself;_  
_And Earthly power doth then show likest God,_  
_When mercy seasons justice.”_

Sam smiled to himself as Charlie read, watching the faces of Cas and Dean watching her. There was a tenderness in Dean’s face that Sam rarely saw, warm and thoughtful and serene. Beside him Cas looked more mournful, the mention of heaven and the mercy of god. And yet there was still something that Sam had to categorize as hope in the blue eyes. And it seemed to brighten when he glanced surreptitiously at Dean, smiling softly beside him.

“ _Though justice be thy plea consider this_ –  
_That in the course of justice none of us_  
_Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy;_  
_And that same prayer doth teach us all to render_  
_The deeds of mercy…”_

Sam’s thought moved from the small group around him to the only other person in the bunker. The one that no one else here would even consider a person and who he was legitimately worried might be murdered by a vengeful prophet when no one was looking.

Sam turned back, surveying Kevin and hoping he wasn’t taking too many cues from his character, who steadfastly refused any mercy and demanded his price be paid. Of course, Antonio seemed kind of ok with it, Sam considered as Dean read, since he was dying pretty much for the sake of Bassanio…

 _“Commend me to your honored wife;_  
_Tell her the process of Antonio’s end;_  
_Say how I lov’d you; speak me fair in death;_  
_And when the tale is told, bid her judge,_  
_Whether Bassanio had not once a love.”_

Dean paused, fixing Sam with a look, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, ok,” Sam grumbled. “Boyfriends. Whatever.”

 

~*~*~

 

“Hey, you ready?” Dean asked from the shelter of Cas’ bedroom door. Cas’ head snapped up from where he had been staring at floor. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No, I apologize,” Cas answered, his voice a thoughtful, deep rasp. “I was…thinking…”

Dean didn’t have to say anything or ask the question. He just needed to catch Cas eyes and lift his arms impatiently.

“Are you sure you want me to come with you?” Cas asked with a nervousness in his face that reminded Dean just how human he was now.

“Of course I’m sure,” Dean replied instantly, more annoyed than anything.

“I might place you in danger,” Cas muttered, absently fingering the amulet Dean knew hid beneath his shirt.

“Dude, we’re _always_ in danger,” Dean scoffed. “And…” Cas frowned at the hesitancy in Dean’s tone. “And I want you to come. Sam’s…he's not doing as good as I thought and…” Dean trailed off as the confusion in Cas face melted to concern and understanding.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Cas promised softly.

Dean gave a quick nod of appreciation as Cas grabbed the threadbare duffle from the foot of his bed, a black denim jacket tucked between the straps. Dean squeezed his shoulder as he moved past him through the door. For some reason the contact made him a little less nervous, though why he was even nervous before a job was a mystery unto itself.

“Ok, kids,” Dean called and earned two very unamused glares from behind the screens of Kevin and Charlie’s laptops. “Try not to die while we’re gone. Or kill anyone.”

“Come on, guys,” Kevin sighed in exasperation. “I’m not going to kill Crowley while he’s still useful.”

By the time Dean had processed the statement, Cas was already talking.

“You’re implying you wish to kill him when his purpose is served,” said Cas, as blunt and cool as usual.

Kevin held Dean’s gaze, unblinking and unashamed. “Yeah,” Kevin confirmed. “I am.”

Dean swallowed. Of all people he could sympathize with, an angry kid who wanted to kill the thing that tore up his life and killed his mom was the easiest…but there was something horrifying about seeing that kind of calm commitment to revenge in a kid.

“Yeah, well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it…” Dean muttered, fighting a shudder. He turned on his heel and strode out of the library. The fresh summer air outside was a relief, and the sun made the chill he felt fade just a bit.

“You awake enough to drive?” Dean asked, throwing Sam the keys without waiting for an answer.

Minutes later, as they roared down the highway with Sam smiling at the open road and Cas staring quietly out of the window, Dean finally relaxed. It would be ok. Though for them, okay was a certain level of permanent sucking, but it would be ok. They had made it this far and Kevin would be ok. Somehow.

 

~*~*~

 

It was the lack of driving guitar and drums that actually woke Sam up. Though 'awake' was maybe a strong word for his state. He was still sprawled as comfortably as he could manage across the back seat of the Impala, his head lolling on his balled-up coat.

“Crap, I liked that station,” Dean grumbled and Sam heard the familiar click of the radio being turned off.

“You know, Dean, there are very likely other radio stations,” Cas commented. “Perhaps we could…”

“Nope, driver picks the music, shotgun…”

“Shuts his cakehole. I am familiar with the rules.”

Sam could almost hear Dean smirking.

“Maybe you could let me drive.”

The car swerved suddenly, jostling Sam more awake.

“Are you kidding me?” said Dean, as if Cas had suggested setting the car on fire.

“I didn’t mean right now,” Cas replied easily. “I would require some instruction.”

“Not in this car,” Dean shot back immediately.

“Dean you’re being unreasonable. I should know how to drive and this is the only car you have…”

“We’ll liberate a freaking Toyota somewhere, okay? You are not touching my baby until I’m sure you won’t drive her off a cliff.”

Sam cracked an eye in time to catch Cas rolling his eyes and scowling.

“Accidentally,” Dean added.

“But you will teach me?”

“Maybe…” Dean muttered.

“And then I can select the music.”

“Or maybe not.”

Sam smiled, nestled further into the seat, and closed his eyes again.

 

~*~*~

 

“You know what I really miss about living on the road?” Dean asked through a mouthful of what Cas considered extremely dry and sub-standard pancakes. “Freaking nothing.”

“I’m sure your arteries agree,” Sam smiled. He looked doubtfully down at the bowl of white sludge and shriveled blueberries topped with what Castiel hoped was not sand, and sighed. “And my tastebuds. How do they even call this yogurt?”

“Food in Utah always sucks,” Dean muttered, pushing his plate away, barely half finished.

Cas wondered if this meant it was acceptable for him to do the same. He’d ordered the same thing as Dean because Dean’s taste in food could almost always be counted on to lead him to something quite good, but this was one of the rare missteps. Perhaps it was the location and establishment: a nearly empty diner from some giant national chain sitting at a lonely intersection in Provo. They didn’t even serve tea. Cas had sadly agreed to coffee, which had been extremely weak and also terrible.

“Too bad we’re too far from Salt Lake, there’s that Crown Burger joint that’s awesome,” Dean mused sadly. “Giant burger piled with pastrami…so good…”

“Try not to drool,” Sam reminded Dean, who sighed wistfully.

“Well, we’re burning daylight, let’s find this bitch,” said Dean, digging into his coat and pulling out then peeling a twenty dollar bill out of the money clip. “Cyber exorcism, take one.”

Castiel rolled his shoulders as they headed back to the car. He was still stiff from a few hours sleep on the lumpy couch in the motel. Dean had offered to switch with him half-way through the night, but Castiel had refused. He had been fine with the quiet murmur of the television and the more than occasional glance at Dean, lost in a book. Well, maybe not lost, since he had caught Dean watching him more than a few times.

In minutes they were outside of a bland, yet massive building that seemed to be made entirely of gray concrete and dull glass.

“Are we sure we don’t want to wait and see if we can catch her at home?” Sam asked doubtfully, glancing at the guards at the entrance to the parking lot who seemed like they were checking identification. “This isn’t some backwoods sheriff’s station we can just stroll into…”

“Eh, what’s life without a little risk,” Dean shrugged.

Castiel caught a glint in his eyes in the rearview mirror. He tried not to hold his breath or look away as Dean confidently showed his false FBI badge to the parking lot guard. Dean’s poker metaphors had been admittedly lost on him, but Cas understood the general theme that people can tell when you’re lying based on certain behaviors. It was easy enough to stop those. Mostly.

“Here’s you’re temporary parking permit, agents,” the guard chimed with a smile.

“He was suspiciously friendly,” Castiel muttered, not relaxing.

“Utah,” Sam stated as if that was an adequate answer.

The ease with which they showed their false badges and were allowed to enter the building was also troubling, though it caused Castiel more worry about the security of other government facilities than anything demonic. Sam commented along the same lines.

“Hi there,” Dean grinned at the fourth floor receptionist, leaning over her desk as Sam and Cas hovered behind. “We’re looking for a…” Dean pulled out a notepad and glanced at it. “Sarah Greene?”

“Of course, who do I tell her is visiting?” the young blonde replied with another disconcertingly easy smile.

“FBI,” Dean answered, leaning in conspiratorially. “Nothing urgent, don’t worry.”

“Oh, well, I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Dean turned from the receptionist and raised his eyebrows at Sam, signaling it was time. Castiel tensed as he watched Sam slip his phone from his pocket and send the prepared text to Charlie.

 _ **Now**_.

Castiel had been on jobs with the Winchesters on many occasions, but all those times he had felt more impatience and detached interest than fear or anticipation. The nerves and excitement he felt now were almost overwhelming. And strangely it all made him feel almost...happy. It was like the first time they had read a play together: first confusion and caution and then…fun.

“Hi Sarah, yes, I have…” the receptionist lowered her voice. “Um, three _federal agents_ here to speak to you. No they wouldn’t say what for. Nothing urgent though.”

Castiel wished he could still hear as he could before his fall, so that he could know the minute the email pinged on the demon’s computer. Waiting and not knowing was torture.

“Ok, she’ll see you!” the receptionist smiled. “Her cubicle is three rows down. The one with the beanie babies. Can’t miss it.”

Castiel knew by the look on Dean’s face meant a sudden stream of profanities was racing through his mind, even as his smile remained stiff and cordial.

“Great,” Dean declared and turned towards the door.

“Dean…” Sam whispered anxiously as they walked a little too fast through into the maze of gray boxes. “How is this going to work in a goddamn cubicle?”

It smelled liked warm paper and bad coffee and no one in the huge maze of plastic and cheap fabric seemed to have any privacy. It reminded Castiel of Crowley’s version of hell.

“We’ll get her out…” Dean answered through gritted teeth.

“But I thought she had to be in front of the screen?” Castiel asked, careful to keep his voice down as well.

“Both of you, shut up,” Dean snapped, his eyes darting around the office. “We will figure this…oh shit…”

Castiel's attention snapped to the center of the third row of cubicles where papers had begun to fly into the air and the lights above were blinking. “I think the plan needs to be revised,” Castiel said, swallowing down an unfamiliar rising panic. Dean turned to him, eyes wide and a bit appalled.

“ _Ya think_?” Dean barked.

The commotion in the office was growing, other workers springing from their desks in various states of shock, fear and curiosity.

“I have an idea!” Sam cried and bolted away. Dean took the cue and began to run in the other direction, towards the chaos and – oh this was interesting – now there were sparks and the flimsy cubicle walls were shaking.

“Out of the way! FBI!” Dean bellowed. He slid to a halt in front of the desk and jumped back when a plump woman with curly brown hair and a desk full of small stuffed animals rose and rounded on him, her eyes black and her face twisted in rage.

“YOU!” the demon roared. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

Without warning an earsplitting ringing erupted from all around and lights began to flash. The office erupted in bedlam as every worker sprang up now, running for the exits. Castiel barely had a chance to wonder what the alarm was meant for before water began to pour from the ceiling. Sam had obviously been successful.

“Welcome to the new millennium,” Dean smirked, pulling out the demon knife and brandishing it. The program that had taken over the demon’s computer continued, a long line of Latin and Enochian issuing from small speakers as a series of symbols flashed on the screen.

“You think a bunch of ones and zeroes can even begin to…ahh…” The demon choked, gripping her throat and looking at Dean with pure fury. “I’m…going to…skin…aughhh!”

“Yeah, I kind of do think that,” Dean answered as black smoke began to pour from the woman’s mouth. People started screaming, clamoring for the exists as the demon was expelled from its host and Sarah Greene collapsed on the floor. In a second Dean and Cas were helping her up as Sam ran up to them. The black cloud raced violently through the room.

“Time to go!” Sam panted.

“Now that sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed, taking one of the woman’s arms around his shoulder as Castiel did the same on the other side. The water pouring down on them made Castiel cold and uncomfortable, but it somehow was not troublesome. He was still too full of adrenaline and the water made Dean’s features shine, which was very pleasant, and it looked like they had won…

“Not so fast, boys.”

Castiel felt the vicious slam of a wall against his back before he could even process that he was flying through the air.

“Dean!” Cas yelled, scrambling up and trying to ignore the pain shooting through him. Dean had been thrown to the other side of the room, and looked like he was alive, but struggling the get up and get to…Sam. The demon, now possessing a middle-aged man with thinning gray hair and a pot belly, was holding Sam up by the throat.

“We know what you tried to do us, Sam Winchester,” the demon hissed as Sam pawed at the hand around his neck.

Castiel ducked down, clamoring behind a line of wrecked desks and trying desperately to keep out of sight.

“Trying to shut the gates! Naughty, naughty boy. And you couldn’t even finish!” The demon laughed, the sound like metal scraping against metal. “Our new queen will be so happy to see you after what you…aughh!”

The demon staggered back, dropping Sam. Smoke rose from his skin as he clutched the places on his face where Castiel's flask of holy water had hit him. Sam collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Castiel didn’t take his eyes off the demon as he pushed himself between it and Sam. He could only make out Dean peripherally, crawling – Castiel hoped because of caution and not serious injury – towards the demon knife…

“And you must be the hunters’ pet angel?” The demon spat, pouncing on Castiel and lifting him up by the front of his shirt. The demon leaned in and sniffed Castiel's skin as he fought to free himself. A wicked grin broke over the wan, fat face. “Or you were.”

Castiel struggled uselessly as the creature’s hand locked around his throat, crushing delicate human parts and cutting off his breath. It occurred to him that this might be a good moment to be afraid. And yet he felt no such fear.

“Why are you smiling?” the demon asked, the pressure relenting the slightest bit.

“This is why, you son of a bitch.”

The demon dropped Castiel and spun directly into Dean’s knife. Red lights flashed within the corpse as the smell of burning flesh and sulfur filled Cas’ nostrils. Dean looked down, shaking his head in regret as the body fell to the floor. Castiel knew what he was thinking. The idea had been to keep the possessed alive…

“We gotta move, guys…” Sam rasped, grabbing Castiel by the arm. Dean nodded and they rushed towards the exit.

Cas stumbled as the reached the door to the stairs. He groped around his neck and through the torn fabric of his shirt, just to be sure...and suddenly real dread was filling him for the first time that day.  “Dean, wait, the amulet!” Castiel cried. It was too late.

All three of them ducked as every piece of glass on the entire floor exploded around them. Castiel felt Dean’s arm over his back and the hunter's hand holding his head down, his other hand holding tight to Castiel’s wrist.

“What was that you said about risk?” Sam yelled over the din.

“Shut up, Sammy!” Dean roared back. “Oh…fuck…”

Castiel looked up and followed Dean’s gaze to the figure that had appeared ten feet in front of them.

“Adiel…” Castiel whispered. He recognized the vessel more than the grace within. Adiel had taken on the body of a young woman, barely twenty, with light brown hair that would have been straight if the angel had bothered to comb it. Everything about her looked messy, almost feral. He clothes were ripped and dirty, and her eyes were wild.

“Castiel,” his sibling breathed. “We have been looking for you.”

Castiel struggled to stand, the pain in his body and the fact that Dean would not let go of him making the effort even more difficult.

“Adiel, I…” Castiel couldn’t even find the words to explain.

“You did this to us!” Adiel screamed and the whole room seemed to shudder, various electronics exploding around them. “You and Metatron!”

“I was tricked…” Castiel protested, the feeling of all the air gong out of his lungs returning. “I…”

“I don’t care!” Adiel screamed, advancing on them as an angelic blade slid into her hands and the lights above her burst, sending down a rain of sparks. “There are those that wish to forgive you, and there are those that believe you dead. Their voices all scream and shout in my head when I try to listen. But I…I know you have to die.”

“Not today, honey,” Dean growled, stepping between Adiel and Castiel. “You gotta go through me.”

Castiel felt his organs twist and freeze inside him. “Dean, don’t…”

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean barked.

“As you wish, mortal,” Adiel sneered. “I think watching the ape that destroyed him die slowly before his eyes will be a fitting prelude Castiel's own death.”

Castiel tried to grab Dean and pull him away but Dean pushed him back, even as Adiel raised her weapon.

“You want to punish him? Is that it?” Dean demanded, his face unwavering and his eyes shining with conviction. “You don’t think he’s suffering already? More than any of you winged douchebags could make him suffer?”

Adiel dropped her blade an inch, considering Dean curiously.

“That’s right, you stupid bitch,” Dean continued, his voice raw. “You got trapped down here with your wings, but do you know what that dick did to Cas? He made him human! You don’t think that’s punishment enough?”

“Human?” Adiel whispered.

“Yeah. And believe me when I say that there is freaking _nothing_ that sucks more for an angel than being stuck with the pain and weakness and all the other shit that comes with this pathetic existence. It’s dirty. It’s hopeless. And it hurts like hell.” Dean kept his eyes locked with Adiel’s even as Cas grabbed tight to his arm, silently begging him to stop. “You want him to suffer, fine, I get that,” Dean went on. “But if you’re really serious about hurting him, you won’t kill him, cause then he’ll go right on back upstairs. If you want to punish him, show mercy. Make him live.”

Castiel took a halting breath, terror and amazement and guilt and adoration fighting inside him so viciously it made him almost sick. Adiel looked into Castiel's eyes, a similar war clearly being waged within her as well.

“Perhaps a mortal life is a fitting punishment…” Adiel intoned, her blade dropping to the side.

Dean let out a sigh. “See, I…” Dean stopped as the blade flew to his neck.

“And having to live with the guilt of your death will make it even worse,” Adiel smiled.

“Adiel, no!” Castiel cried, pulling Dean away from the sword with all his might so that they both stumbled back.

“Hey, asshole.”

All three of them turned at the weak, breathless sound of Sam’s voice. Adiel’s eyes went wide at the sight of the sigil scrawled in blood on the wall, with Sam slumped beside it.

“How about you fuck off?” Sam asked as he pressed his palm to the wall. Adiel’s scream was lost as blinding light filled the room.

 

~*~*~

 

“Do you think it worked?” Kevin asked uncertainly as he stared at the silent phone sitting on the table between him and Charlie.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Charlie semi-answered. “Or not. I mean…they’d call, right? If something went wrong?”

“I think they’d call if it went right…” Kevin countered, swallowing down familiar anxiety. It had been over half an hour since the virus had been sent. And they had heard nothing… _They’re dead. They’re dead and I’m alone. Everyone_ …

The sound of Robyn blasting from Charlie’s phone made Kevin jump out of his seat as Charlie scrambled to answer.

“Dean?” Charlie demanded, her voice shaking a bit. She gave Kevin a glance and a nod. Kevin finally let himself breathe. “What? Dean, slow down. I…it worked but it just expelled the demon? I thought it was supposed to…Yes, I know it wasn’t supposed to work that way. D-Dean, stop yelling…It was your spell! I just wrote the…Dean, are you…”

Charlie held the receiver back from her ear, grimacing as a stream of profanity issued from the phone.

“Charlie?” a different, low and calm voice asked from the phone all of a sudden.

“Cas? Everyone is ok right? Ok, good. Tell Dean to breathe before he blows a blood vessel….Is Sam going to be ok? Ok, good…Yes. We’re fine. Yes we realize that the spell needs to be tweaked. We’ll get on it…How are things otherwise?”

Charlie took the phone from her ear and looked down. The call had ended.

“You guys really need to go over how to end a conversation with him…” Charlie muttered.

“So, not a ringing success?” Kevin asked, his whole body slumping with the exhaustion of it all.

“Yep. Still got work to do,” Charlie sighed.

Kevin looked away from her, to the door that led to the dungeon. He was getting so tired. Of all this. And especially of waiting.

 

~*~*~

 

“I can’t freakin’ believe it,” Dean sighed, staring into the back seat of the Impala at his completely unconscious brother.

“This can’t be natural,” Cas agreed from beside him.

“He didn’t get hit that hard…” Dean shook his head, handing the open, mostly cold beer that had been meant for Sam to Cas. He leaned into the front seat and turned up the radio before joining Cas to on the hood.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Cas offered, a bit stiffly.

“Yeah, he’s been through worse,” Dean nodded. “It just sucks for him that he’s missing this.” Dean gestured to the sky above them.

An almost full moon was perched among an ocean of stars, making the Rockies practically glow in the night around them. The sound of the stream they had pulled alongside mingled nicely with the music from the radio and the air still held some of the warm, dry scent of a summer day.

“Thanks for saving the big hairball’s ass, by the way,” Dean added quietly.

Cas looked down at his beer and smiled tiredly. “You’re welcome. Thank you for…saving my ass. Twice.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say,” Dean breathed, taking a long swig of beer. “I’m serious about keeping you around for a while.”

Dean caught Cas’ eyes and the hunter smiled again; or at least half smiled. The memories of the epic clusterfuck that had been their morning were still way too fresh. Sam on the floor, weak and so easily broken. Cas with a demon’s hand wrapped around his throat. The horror in Cas face when that stupid fucking angel had shown up. Dean's heart hadn’t stopped pounding the entire time as they had retrieved the damn amulet and hauled Sam into the car. In fact he hadn’t really relaxed until about one hundred miles down the freeway…

“You know, you were wrong,” Cas said, shaking Dean out of his thoughts. “Partially at least.”

“Huh?”

“You were wrong, about being a human,” Cas explained. Dean raised an eyebrow. “I mean, it does, as you might say, royally suck a great deal of the time, but…”

“But what?” Dean asked, watching Cas’ face as he looked out over the stream, the water glistening in shades of silver and black in the moonlight.

“There are some thing that I…quite enjoy,” Cas answered. “Like beer. Beer is good.”

Dean laughed quietly as Cas took a sip from his bottle. Dean liked the way his lips lingered on the rim as he swallowed then smiled.

“Yeah, it’s damn good,” Dean agreed. He took another sip of his own, taking time to savor the cool feel of the glass on his own lips, the bitter taste of hops and the subtle dance of bubbles down his throat. “What else do you like?”

“Food, in general,” Cas replied almost automatically. “Bread and caramel and peaches and Pringles. Almost all of it.”

“Pie?”

“Of course.”

Dean liked grinning at the same time as Cas.

“And I like other, little things that I never noticed when I was an angel. Smells. Like the air after it rains or clean laundry when you remember to buy that one detergent in the red bottle. And books. I love the smell of books.”

“Huh…” This earned Dean a curious glance from Cas. “It’s just…I always liked that too. Reminds me of Bobby’s house. Just like the smell of old leather makes me think of my dad.”

“Funny. The smell of leather makes me think of you,” Cas agreed. “Though a lot of things do that,” Cas added, almost an afterthought as he leaned back on the windshield, taking another sip.

Dean swallowed, not sure what to make of the statement or the weird way it made his chest tighten. Cautiously he leaned back as well, watching Cas’ face.

“And I like this, looking at the stars,” Cas continued. “I spent millennia among them, able to chart them all with a thought, always looking down from them, never up to them. It makes me feel…small.”

“That’s a good thing?” Dean managed to ask, trying not to be swept away just listening to Cas talk as the radio switched to a new song. This one slower and quieter.

“I’ve never felt small before. It…” Cas paused, following the milky way across the sky with his eyes. “You can’t cause to much damage when you’re small. Not compared to the universe.”

“Dude, have you _met_ Sam and me?”

Cas laughed and gave a soft I-am-ignoring-you-ruining-the-moment smile. “I like music too.”

“You didn’t notice music before?” Dean watched as Cas’ eyed narrowed thoughfully.

“Not the way a human does…” he explained slowly. “I could hear everything and it was all just waves and sound but now, I understand how music can speak for…”

“All the things you can’t say with words,” Dean finished for him. Cas looked at him and gave him a bright, perfect smile.

“Yes, exactly,” Cas breathed. Dean was struck by the way the moon made his blue eyes shine like some sort of jewel. Not sapphires…lapis. “I was listening to an old record I found in the bunker a few days ago, a composer called Palestrina…and it was so beautiful it…it almost hurt.”

 _I know that feeling_.

Dean caught the words before he said them out loud. Just the thought made him feel cold and a bit terrified.

“That’s it, I’m never letting you pick the music,” he managed to say. Cas hadn’t noticed his panic. He was laughing and smiling again. That was good. “You know, you smile more now. And laugh.”

“Maybe you’re just funnier now,” Cas countered with a glint in his eye that made Dean incredibly proud.

“Shut up, I’m hilarious,” Dean grumbled. They both took long sips, turning their eyes back to the stars. “You know, I always thought music was better than words, before.”

“Before?”

“Yeah, before we started reading the Shakespeare,” Dean answered with a shrug. “Now, I kinda think it all depends on the moment, you know. Like this moment. This is a good moment and it could be music, or, you know…it could be poetry.”

“Really? And what do you think Shakespeare would say about this moment?” Cas challenged, gentle, not mocking.

“Well, that’s easy…” Dean smiled, looking up to the moon.

“ _How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank,_  
_Here will we sit and let the sound of music_  
_Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night_  
_Become the touches of sweet harmony…”_

When he looked back at Cas, all he could see was blue eyes that seemed filled with something he didn’t want to name. It made the words catch briefly in his throat. A soft, warm wind picked up and Dean could suddenly feel every inch of his skin.

“ _Sit, Jessica, Look how the floor of heaven_  
_Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;_  
_There’s not the smallest orb which though behold’st_  
_But in his motion like an angel sings,_  
_Still quiring to the young-ey’d cherubims.”_

“We just read that yesterday, you memorized it?” Cas asked in wonder, a crooked smile on his face.

Dean looked down, wondering why his cheeks suddenly felt weirdly warm. “Yeah, well, it was pretty.” Dean sighed, thinking back to the night before and of re-reading the poems and passages that he had liked the most out of their studies so far. Well, not exactly that. “And it kind of…” Cas tilted his head and Dean swallowed. “Reminded me of you.”

Cas looked away with a smile that reminded Dean of the way a girl at a bar would look away and blush, all shy and overwhelmed, when you give her one of your best lines, except not at all the same. Dean fought the urge to squirm and clear his throat because the moment was right in-between perfect and incredibly weird.

“Oh,” Cas breathed and looked back at Dean. He had to have some sort of grace or whatever left in him because those eyes still weren’t human…Dean felt the pull of possibility as he stared at Cas. His face was just a few inches away and the idea that he could so easily move closer, close the distance and…

Dean turned away, looking back up at the stars and trying to catch his breath. Why did that make him feel like a complete ass?

“A lot of things remind me of you too,” Dean almost whispered. He didn’t so much see Cas smile as feel it in the air, like another warm breeze. And then he felt the gentle touch of Cas fingers against his, hidden somewhere in the shadows between them.

“Like I said…there are some things I like very much about being human,” Cas murmured back as their hands entwined.

“Yeah, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for a decent Merchant of Venice, well, Al Pacino's isn't too bad.
> 
> Also: Crown Burger is a real chain in Salt Lake and it is indeed the best food in the entire state.


	6. "O Trespass Sweetly Urged"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas read "Romeo and Juliet." It goes about as well as you might imagine. Or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, now there's some art for this chapter which the lovely [ Linnea](http://linneart.tumblr.com/)

Romeo _: Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged!_  
_Give me my sin again._  
Juliet _: You kiss by the book._

William Shakespeare  
_Romeo And Juliet,_ Act I, scene v

 

~*~*~

“Look, I’m not saying we do it now…”

Dean shook his head stiffly, turning and walking away from Sam. “No. It’s a crap idea. So: No,” Dean repeated, probably for the fifth or sixth time, judging from the tension in his voice.

“Dean, you’re being unreasonable,” Sam sighed, his hands falling by his sides as Dean turned and glared at him.

“Unreasonable?” Dean echoed, rounding on Sam. “You’re the moron that wants to summon a demon to our secret hideout just to try out something we don’t even know will work!”

“We’ve done it before!” Sam protested.

“Yeah, and it always worked out so freakin’ well!” Dean snapped back.

“And doing it your way last time was just awesome,” Sam replied scornfully. “This will be safer.”

“Safer? Bringing a full-on demon in here to experiment on?” Dean balked. “Do you wanna take a risk like that with a half-human Crowley here? Or with Charlie around?”

“Dean, we’ll be careful…” Sam protested weakly.

“We’re always careful and it always goes to hell anyway!”

Sam made a frustrated noise, his mouth hanging open a bit. It was a very hard point to argue with.

“And then there's you…” Dean gestured to Sam gloomily.

“ _What about me_?” Sam asked, looking insulted.

“You are not back at one hundred percent, you know that, don’t lie to me.” The worry and sadness in Dean’s voice was heartbreaking.

“Dean I’m fine,” Sam argued.

“And let's not start with Kevin and Cas. I am not going to take a risk like that with them,” Dean went on.

“You’re the one that asked Cas to come last time!”

“Do you think they remember that we’re here?” Kevin asked, leaning over to mutter near Castiel's ear.

“It would appear that they do not,” Castiel answered, not taking his eyes off the squabbling brothers.

“Sammy, the answer is no. That’s final,” Dean declared with a firmness that anyone would find hard to refuse.

Sam drew back a bit, pursing his lips in annoyance. “You are not the boss of us, Dean,” Sam muttered, without much conviction.

“I’m the oldest, so, yeah, I am,” Dean shot back.

“Technically, I am the oldest person here by a very wide margin,” Castiel interjected. The boys turned to look at him in mild surprise. Castiel raised his eyebrows, wondering if he should have perhaps waited to comment.

“Yeah, well…” Dean sputtered. “We’re going by years as a human, which means you’re not even old enough to vote.”

“Hey,” Kevin grinned, turning to Castiel. “Does that mean I get to…” Kevin stopped short as Castiel frowned at him in annoyance. “Ok, never mind.”

Sam stood from his seat at what Dean always referred to inexplicably as the 'risk’ table. Castiel didn’t quite see anything risky about proximity to a large map of the world, even if it still showed the former Soviet Union as intact.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dean demanded as Sam headed for the door.

“For a run!” Sam almost shouted, his frustration startling Castiel. “Do you want to follow me in the car to make sure I don’t collapse?”

Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. Castiel knew that meant he was still angry, most likely because he knew he was being, as Castiel saw it, reasonable and careful with the people he wanted to protect. Sam obviously didn’t see it that way.

Castiel watched Dean as the sound of the bunker door slamming echoed through the silence. He had heard and experienced enough of Sam’s stubbornness in his acquaintance with the Winchesters, but he still wondered why the younger brother was so adamant when he disagreed with Dean. It did occur to Cas that he was biased. Probably very biased, if Sam were to comment. He had already mentioned a few times in passing, in a manner Castiel believed was called “passive aggressively,” that Castiel always took Dean’s side…

He became peripherally aware that Kevin was looking back and forth between him and Dean. Dean didn’t seem to notice though. He fell in to a swivel chair and sighed, looking darkly at Castiel.

“Ok, I’m going to go…do something else…” Kevin muttered. Castiel gave a small nod, not really paying much attention.

“You get it, right?” Dean asked the minute Kevin was out of the room.

“I do,” Castiel replied without hesitation. “Though Sam does make a few valid points.” The glare Dean directed at him made him reconsider the wisdom of trying to explain Sam’s perspective. “But, yes…you’re…worried.”

Dean leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his head drooping. Cas moved around the table to take a seat beside him.

“I’m tired of screwing up and hurting people,” Dean almost whispered, as if saying it too loud would hurt someone else.

“You didn’t…” Castiel protested softly, but once again it took just a look to cut off the sentence. He had said all he wanted to say so many times, Dean probably knew it by heart. He’d probably memorized it the first time, the way he could memorize lines of Shakespeare the moment he read them, if he deemed them worthy enough.

All those words seemed so wasted, Castiel thought, watching the pain and guilt laid bare in Dean’s face. If they had been the right words, Dean wouldn’t feel this way. Then again, Castiel remembered every time Dean had told him not to blame himself for his own crimes, that he did not deserve to suffer. And he hadn’t listened.

Cas placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, the left one, on the same place he had left his palm-print burned years before. It was probably faded now, impossible to see. But it was still there in the ways that mattered. It wasn’t much, but the touch seemed to ease away some of the suffering in Dean’s face. And that was a victory Cas could be proud of.

“Are you gonna bug out too?” Dean asked, bravado masking something else…fear? Hope?

“I think I’ll stay here for a while, if you don’t mind,” Cas replied.

 

~*~*~

 

>> **is any one talking yet?**

The message popped up on the bottom of Kevin’s computer screen – a little gray bubble next to a picture of a red-haired elf.

Kevin glanced up around the room. Dean was frowning at the television, watching some show about restoring cars. Cas had his nose in a book, Kevin wasn’t sure what it was. Sam was still in the library. Kevin typed quickly.

<< **not really**. 

>> **:-(**

<< **it’s been 2 days!** Kevin lamented to Charlie as his orc swung a huge battle axe at a group of goblins.

>> **are cas and dean still doing the staring thing?**

Kevin looked at the pair again. It was weird. There was just something lately about the way they acted. Like they sat closer but not so much so that Kevin could really tell the difference. The _looks_ were reaching epic proportions.

<< **yes**.

<< **not right now. but i caught dean looking at cas across the library yesterday and i think he actually blushed**.

>> **omg!**

<< **it’s WEIRD**.

>> **it’s adorable.**

Kevin rolled his eyes. He was starting to really like Charlie, even if she tended to geek out over things that really didn’t need to be geeked out over. Or pointed out things that just made him feel awkward. He looked up again. Of course Cas wasn’t reading any more, he was taking one of his regular breaks to watch Dean watch TV. How could that possibly be interesting?

<< **are we on for the raid at 8**? Kevin asked, shaking his head and focusing back on the screen.

>> **no can do, padawan. met a lovely damsel yesterday and we’re gonna rescue some drinks later.**

<< **so not fair**.

>> **jealous?**

>> **You can go out with sam and leave the lov…**

“That’s bull shit!”

Kevin slammed the screen shut, fully expecting to find a furious Dean looking over his shoulder. No. Thank god, he was just yelling at the TV.

“You cannot put that motor in a Bel Air, it’s sacrilege…” Dean groaned.

“You have a very broad definition of that term,” Cas muttered.

“Ok, that’s it.”

Kevin jumped again. Sam was looming in the doorway, a determined frown on his face.

“What’s what?” Dean asked, not looking away from the TV.

“I’m going out, and, as a gesture of brotherly love, I am taking you with me,” Sam declared, striding forward and coming between Dean and the TV.

“Out?” Cas echoed, looking back and forth between Dean and Sam as if Sam had suggested they would be flying somewhere.

“Yes. As in a place other than here, with other people, and food. And alcohol,” Sam answered, though he was looking at Dean.

“We have those here,” Cas argued, perplexed.

Dean finally met Sam’s eyes and muted the TV with a scowl. “You heard the man,” he shrugged.

“We don’t get the soccer channel,” Sam shot back, clearly trying to be patient.

“The _soccer channel_? Dude, could you be more lame?” Dean sighed.  

Sam pursed his lips sourlly. “I like soccer, ok. I want to watch the English Premier League final and it’s going to be on at the pub in town."

“So you’d rather go out and watch the most boring sport ever, than hang around here with us?” Dean demanded.

Kevin wondered if he could open his computer and relay this all to Charlie without being noticed…

“Yes, I thought we were going to start a new play once you two finished behaving like children,” Cas interjected before Sam could formulate an answer. Dean turned to Cas, sputtering and looking a bit betrayed. “It’s been two days. It was becoming absurd. Kevin agrees.”

“Crap,” Kevin swore, sinking as low as he could in his chair as Sam and Dean’s accusing eyes turned to him.

“Really, Kev?” Dean asked, a dangerous smirk playing on his mouth.

“What play did you want to read?” Sam asked with a sigh.

Cas smiled and picked up the volume of Shakespeare that had taken up permanent residence on the coffee table. He opened to a marked page and showed it to Sam.

“Charlie suggested it, I think it sounds…”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, man but…” Sam cut Cas off, shaking his head. “And Kevin’s gonna agree with me on this one.”

Sam handed the book over to Kevin, who made a mental note to see if there really were any invisibility spells buried in the library. He gulped as he read the title page.

“ _Romeo and Juliet_?” Kevin whimpered.

“I believe it's famous,” Cas protested innocently, his smile dimming a bit.

“You know, I used to play soccer…” Kevin muttered. “I’m good with going to the pub.”

“Well, then, Cas, you and Dean will just have to read it all on your own, if he insists on sitting around at home,” Sam said with a smug grin. It was a dare directed at Dean, rather than Cas; Kevin could see that very clearly from the annoyed, humorless look Dean was giving his little brother.

Dean stood silently, crossing over to Kevin in one step and lifting the book of plays from his hand. He glanced at the words, then at Cas, whose face was, of course, plastered with the lost puppy look that Kevin was pretty sure no one in the world could say no to.

“Two households…blah blah… _…from ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean,_ " Dean read then looked back up to Sam with a crooked, cocky smile. “Yeah, I think that still sounds more badass than soccer.”

Sam heaved a sigh, shaking his head.

“Hey man, if you wanna go out, then go,” Dean added, care and warmth returning to his face. “Go teach Kev how to hustle darts or something, Cas and I will hang here, ok?”

Sam gave a tired smile. It wasn’t a complete resolution to the fight, but it was something. “Come on, Kev, better find your fake ID,” Sam ordered.

Kevin scrambled up from the chair, trying not to trip as he unplugged his laptop and rushed to dump it in his room. His IDs and phone were all in his jacket, on the bed. He sped to put it on and prayed the phone was charged as he stumbled down the hall to meet Sam. He had to text Charlie ASAP.

“Ok, you take the Capulets for now and I’ll take the Montagues…” Kevin heard Dean say as they headed out the door.

 

~*~*~

 

There was a very annoying voice in Dean’s head. He had no idea when it had gotten so damn loud, but he knew it had started jabbering after the disaster in Utah. Or more precisely, somewhere by a stream in the Rockies when he had sat for a freaking hour, watching stars and listening to music, and holding a guy’s hand.

He did not hold hands. Not with anyone. And especially not a dude. Even if that dude was someone who he had literally been through hell and back with. Not to mention purgatory and a ridiculous amount of crap in between.

But there the voice was, nagging away. It had started the evening snickering that if Dean had bothered to go to more than seven junior English classes back in Indiana, that reading freaking _Romeo and Juliet_ together, at night, alone, would so have been the way to get Hayley Moore to at least second base. But this wasn’t Hayley Moore. This was Castiel.

The stupid voice had started getting louder the moment Sam and Kevin had closed the door. Dean had ignored it, like usual. Because being alone with Cas was in no way special or new. There was nothing unique or different about tonight compared to anything else.

The voice seemed to disagree.

Dean told the voice to shut the hell up when he pulled some beers and left-over pizza from the fridge and it whispered about what crappy date food that was. Good thing it wasn’t a freaking date. You needed wine and not-leftovers for that. And also to leave the house. And for it to be with someone who was not a former angel of the lord who also, no matter how ridiculously beautiful, _was a guy_.

By the time they started reading, the damn voice was so loud that Dean was seriously considered if it was a curse. The voice would not shut up about how warm and amazing the sound of Cas’ laugh was, or how it was, god help him, cute when he grinned and those wrinkles blossomed around his eyes. About how it made him feel happy in a weird and incredibly stupid way to see Cas here, with him, smiling and content.

Yes. Had to be a curse. Because that would be a pretty good curse, right? Especially if the witch or demon or whatever knew him, because these were thoughts that he just didn’t have because…he couldn’t remember why. Oh, right. Because this was Cas. His friend. A guy he would die for, die to protect, yes of course but…

“Dean?”

Dean looked up, blinking.

“Huhwhat?”

“It’s your line, Romeo,” Cas reminded him, smiling patiently and unironically. The guy had no idea what he had just said or why it made Dean gulp and blush.

“Oh yeah, sorry…” Dean muttered and cleared his throat. “ _I had a dream last night._ ”

“ _And so did I,_ ” Cas as Mercutio replied.

“ _And what was yours?_ ”

“ _That dreamers often lie,_ ”

“ _In bed asleep, while they do dream things true,_ ”

“ _O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you,_ ” Cas declared, in a sing song voice.

Dean leaned back on the couch, smiling despite himself as Cas launched into the long speech. When Cas talked or read that stupid, annoying voice got quiet. Or maybe the rest of his brain stopped arguing and that passed for quiet. He didn’t know. At the moment he didn’t care.

He could think of all sorts of bad metaphors for Cas’ voice: Thick, scratchy, warm wool. Chocolate chunk cake. The voice that something huge and grand would have if it talked, like a big old oak or a mountain. Or an angel. No matter the bad poetry, it was still amazing. And it was amazing because it was Cas.

“ _Her chariot is an empty Hazel-nut_ ” Cas read, Shakespeare’s words painting pictures in Dean’s mind.

_“Made by the joiner squirrel or grub,_  
_Time out o' mind the fairies’ coachmakers,_  
_And in this state she gallops night by night,_  
_Through lovers brains, and then they dream of love_.”

So, maybe that was the bitch responsible for this craziness, Dean thought to himself. Yeah, but if that was the case he’d be dreaming of love at night instead of Cas nearly dying for him again. He hated how those nightmares made him feel: weak and terrified and useless. How could he have done something like this to Cas? Taken something so good and pure and brought it down to the stinking, dirty earth. How was it even possible that after all of it, Cas was still willing to smile at him and was still so…

Dean shook his head. Yeah. The voice was the only one talking now.

“ _Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace, thou talk’st of nothing,_ ” Dean chided, a bit pissed off at Romeo for cutting off the poetry.

“ _True, I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain_ ,” Cas read in reply, breaking character and smirking at the words. “ _Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; which is as thin of substance as the air…_ ”

Dean swallowed, pushing down the knot in his chest and forcing himself to concentrate on just the words. Not Cas voice or eyes or arms or hands or mouth or anything else ridiculous. They had barely made it through Act I. If he didn’t get his head in the game and out of his…wherever, he wouldn’t make it another hour.

“ _I fear too early; for my mind misgives some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin this fearful date…_ ” Dean recited for Romeo. The shadow of catastrophe lurking in the words and in the back of Dean’s mind made him shiver and pause.

“Is he psychic?” 

Dean blinked at Cas. His face was completely serious and innocent. It made Dean smile.

“Nah, man, I think he’s just…well maybe he read the prologue or something. It’s foreshadowing or whatever.”

“So he knows he’s going to die?” Cas pushed back, unsatisfied.

“I dunno. I think he just know that if he goes to this party he’s totally fucked,” Dean shrugged.

“But he goes anyway,” Cas contemplated aloud.

“People do dumb, crazy things all the time,” Dean explained, trying to ground himself back in reality. “Sometimes we…just can’t fight it.”

Cas nodded thoughtfully. “Please continue.”

It was easier to not think of crazy stupidly cheesy things when they were reading for servants and boring Old Man Capulet and going on about parties for a few lines. But then suddenly Romeo was supposed to spot Juliet across the room. And it was impossible not to think of all the first times he’d seen Cas.

“ _O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright,_  
_It seems she hangs upon the cheek of the night_ …”

Castiel. The one who had pulled him out of hell: showered in sparks and shadow and absolutely terrifying.

“ _Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear;_  
_Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear_.”

A healer. Dressed in the dorkiest blue sweater on the planet with a look of total bewilderment on his face. And finally returned to him.

“ _So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows_  
_As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows_.”

A hunted, fallen angel. Crouched by a stream, filthy and lost and the most wonderful sight he’d seen in what felt like a lifetime.

“ _The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,_  
_And, touching hers, make blessed my hand_.”

A human. Bleeding and relieved and found. A human who was watching him now with a light in his eyes that made Dean’s breath hitch and his heart almost stop.

“ _Did my heart love till now? Forswear it sight._  
_For ne’er saw I true beauty till this night_.”

Dean could identify with Romeo on pretty much every level. Mostly because he too was totally, totally fucked.

 

~*~*~

 

“What do you think they’re doing?”

Sam looked over at Kevin from the game on the screen. The younger man looked, if it was possible, a bit more strung-out than usual.

“Who? Dean and Cas?” Sam asked. Kevin gave a small nod, glancing around the pub and then back at his phone. “I don’t know. Probably reading poetry or arguing about if PBS is a real television channel,” Sam shrugged.

“You don’t think they’re…” Sam raised his eyebrows and Kevin stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Were you gonna ask if I think they’re getting into _Romeo and Juliet_?” Sam guessed and Kevin gave a slightly queasy look that Sam took for a yes. “You know if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, I’d be lying but…”

“But you don’t think they’re…”

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at the implication, or the look on Kevin’s face.

“I think Cas is Cas and Dean is…Dean. And that means that however…weird they’ve always been, there’s nothing…extra there. Believe me, if there was, we’d all know.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Kevin muttered. He and Charlie were probably just going crazy from all the demons and monsters taking over their lives or something like that. “Are you…”

Sam fixed him with his best, bitchy-frustrated face and Kevin stopped himself. Yeah…it was probably nothing.

 

~*~*~

 

“ _Then have my lips the sin they have took?”_

_“Sin from my lips, O trespass sweetly urg’d. Give me my sin again._ "

"I don’t understand.”

Dean looked up at Castiel from across the coffee table, eyes wide and more amused than confused. Castiel sighed and looked down at the text.

“What don’t you get?” Dean asked tolerantly.

Castiel’s brows pinched together as he tried to find the right words. “Romeo, he just…walks up to her and asks to kiss her."

“Yeah?”

“And she lets him.”

“That’s sort of how pick-up lines are supposed to work,” Dean replied, with a shrug.

“Pick-up lines?” Castiel echoed.

Dean blinked at him, clearly baffled by Castiel’s obtuseness. “You know like…” Dean smirked, obviously finding what he was about to say hilarious. “’Hey, did it hurt when ya fell from heaven?’”

Castiel stared stonily back at Dean, whose face fell immediately. “That’s not funny.”

“Come on, it’s kind of funny…” Dean trailed off and looked away, clearing his throat. “Romeo’s is better.”

“You think?” he asked, questioning Dean’s judgment on this matter.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s sort of like saying ‘hey, I just punched you, let me kiss it better,’ but it’s all in the delivery, ya know?” Dean tried to explain.

“No, I don’t know,” Castiel answered tiredly. He knew it had been a rhetorical question, but still. The entire concept of the play was baffling. The idea that Romeo could just look at someone and love her struck him as absurd. Love didn’t hit like lightning, it snuck up on you…

“Ok, I’ll show you then. Stand up,” Dean ordered suddenly.

“What?” Cas asked, not sure he had heard right or why he could suddenly hear his own heart beating in his ears.

“Stand up. We’ll read it again, and…you know, look at me when I do the lines,” Dean said. He was already standing, book in hand. He shook out his arms as if he was about to fight or exercise.

“Why do I…”

“Because they’re standing up in the play, ok, stop arguing.”

Castiel scowled but obeyed, standing and stepping around the coffee table so he was only a foot from Dean. For the first time he realized that Dean had kept himself oddly distanced from him the whole night, until now.

“Ok…” Dean exhaled, rolling his neck. Castiel was ready to comment along the lines of how Dean was making this seem like he was getting ready for an exorcism; but Dean caught his eyes and everything changed. Castiel didn’t know what to think, or if he indeed was thinking, especially when Dean took his hand. And for some reason thinking suddenly didn't matter.

“ _If I profane, with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this, _”__ Dean intoned, absolutely sincere. His hand was calloused and rough but gentle on Castiel’s palm. And Castiel's heart was beating faster. “ _My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smoothe that rough touch with a gentle kiss_.”

Dean inclined his head and for a second Cas was both terrified and more hopeful than he could have imagined that Dean would kiss his hand. But he didn’t, he just looked at him, green eyes through long lashes; though Cas kept looking at his mouth. Blushing pilgrims indeed.

“It’s your line…” Dean whispered.

Castiel gulped and looked back at the page, trying to focus. This was the play and it was just acting. Very good acting to teach him something. But acting.

“ _Good pilgrim, you do wrong you hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this_ ,” Cas read, not half as good as Dean at glancing at the words and reciting them by heart a moment later. “ _For saints have hands, that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss_.”

Cas spread his hand flat against Dean’s, not sure what inspired the gesture – the words or just the strange need to just touch as much skin as he was allowed. He swore he saw Dean’s breath hitch as he looked back at him, catching his eyes.

“ _Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too_?” Dean recited, something dangerous and challenging in his face.

“ _Aye, pilgrim, lips which they must use in praye_ r,” Cas read back softly. He sensed that Juliet was not very serious about dissuading Romeo. It would be quite understandable if Romeo indeed looked like the man before him, and had the same mix of bravado and supplication in his eyes.

“ _O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do_ ,” Dean enticed, and suddenly he had stepped forward, placing them mere inches apart. He glanced at their hands, pressed together between them. “ _They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair_.”

Castiel's heart was pounding, and he could barely look away to read his line. But he had to because this was still just words on page. Wasn’t it?

“ _Saints do not move, though grant for prayer’ sake_ ,” Cas managed to reply, leaning closer. He could feel breath on his face and heat radiating from Dean.

“ _Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take_ …” Dean whispered, and Castiel didn’t even care anymore if this was a charade or a game, because he had never felt more human or more alive than in this moment. “ _Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged_.”

Their lips met, and Cas wasn’t sure who had moved, or if it had been both. But he was kissing Dean, lips pressed together, soft and warm and still. He had kissed before but this…this was completely different. This sent a wave of electricity through him and made the room spin. Suddenly they had dropped their books and Dean’s hands were on his face and in his hair, and his own hands were grabbing Dean’s shirt and pulling him closer.

 

 

And now the kiss wasn’t gentle any more, it was urgent and deep. Dean worked Castiel's mouth open with his own and it was more sensation and feeling than Cas could ever remember. He pulled away, drawing a shaking breath. It was impossible that this could be real and it was just too much…

“We…I…shouldn’t have done that…” Dean whispered, his forehead resting against Castiel's as he caught his breath.

“Yeah…” Cas rasped, licking his lips and nodding. He was worried that if he let go of Dean’s shirt or stepped away he would shake apart. Dean looked up at him, and again his desperate eyes became the entire world.

“Cas?” he murmured, stroking Castiel's cheek and running his fingers into his hair. Cas closed his eyes, fighting against leaning into the touch or doing anything else equally rash.

“Yes?” Cas asked back, opening his eyes, dreading the moment when Dean would pull away. But he wasn’t moving, he was shaking his head, half smiling.

“ _ _ _ _Give me my sin again_.___ ”

This time Cas was sure it was Dean who was kissing him. It was hungry and deep and made his head spin. He had no idea where to put his hands, only had a vague idea that he wanted to touch as much of Dean as he could: his arms and back and his hair. What to do with his mouth was easier. He followed his instincts and Dean’s lead. The feel of Dean’s tongue against his made his brain sing and the first time he bit gently on Dean’s lower lip the sound the hunter made was absolutely perfect.

He was relatively sure that Dean was the first one to move, pulling Cas closer to him as he did. They stumbled into the coffee table and nearly fell onto the couch. Castiel was incredibly grateful because he hadn’t been sure how much longer his legs would hold out. The thought evaporated when Dean’s mouth moved from Cas’ lips to his neck.

“Dean.” It was the only word he could manage, as goosebumps exploded over his skin. Castiel's hands rushed wildly over Dean’s arms and to the collar of his outer shirt. In that moment there was nothing Cas hated more than trademark Winchester layers. He pushed the shirt off Dean’s shoulder and down his arm, losing himself in another kiss.

The sound of the bunker door creaking open, rooms away, was like a gunshot. Dean flew back, tripping backwards and hitting the coffee table with a loud thud as he stared at Cas.

“Fuck,” Dean panted, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Castiel stared at him, trying to regain some semblance of ordered thought. Dean looked sick and terrified.

“Dean…” Castiel rightied himself on the couch with some difficulty as the sound of Sam and Kevin’s footsteps approached.

“Shut up,” Dean snapped weakly. “Just…shut the hell up…” Dean turned without another word, straightening his shirt and running his hands through his hair. Cas didn’t watch him walk out, though he heard the quick, angry footsteps fading.

“Hey, man…what’s wrong…” Castiel heard Sam ask but no answer came. Castiel let his head fall into his hands. He had ruined something or done something terribly stupid or wrong. Again.

“Dude, what’s up with him?” Sam asked lightly as he came into the den. “Whoa, did you guys…”

“We had a…” Castiel swallowed, not daring to look up at Sam as he lied. “A disagreement.”

“Is everything ok?”

Kevin came to stand behind Sam, looking ridiculously small and confused.

“I…I don’t know…” Castiel muttered.

“Should I…” Sam began, but Cas cut him off with a dark look.

“No, I’ll…deal with it,” Castiel grumbled, standing stiffly and gathering his resolve. He had no idea what he was going to say or how to say it or even if he would be able to find Dean, but this was between them and no one else.

He would make it right _ _ _._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know that's a terrible place to leave you hanging, but fear not. More R&J to follow in the next chapter. Hope this one was fun. ;)


	7. "Had I it written, I would tear the word."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by the letter 'F.'

Romeo: _By a name_ _I know not how to tell thee who I am:_  
_My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,_  
_Because it is an enemy to thee;_  
_Had I it written I would tear the word._

William Shakespeare,  
_Romeo and Juliet_ , Act II, scene ii

 

~*~*~

 

“Fuck…” Dean bent over double, exhaling the profanity. He had run, out of the bunker, into the empty nearby fields, like there was a damn demon behind him and now he could barely move. He was going to be sick. Or asphyxiate. Or just fall over.

“Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_ …” he repeated, because there weren’t any other words even close to adequate for this. Shakespeare would be rolling his eyes at Dean if he could hear him. Then again, Dean was pretty sure if he were in the same room as that asshole right now, he’d probably punch him for writing the fucking words that had made him…

“God fucking damn it!” he yelled into the empty night before he could finish the thought or remember. He grabbed the closest object he could find on the ground, a rock, and hurled it into the darkness. The distant, dull sound of it falling to earth was about as useless as the swearing.

This was not happening. This _could not_ be happening.

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes until he saw stars. “Why did it have to be you? Of all the fucking stupid…” Dean stopped, dropping his hands and shaking his head. “Why did you have to pick Jimmy fucking Novak? Why did I have to…”

Dean spun around, swatting petulantly at the tall grass around him. The night was still warm and he could see the faint lights of the town of Lebanon to the east. He didn’t want to look up at the damn stars because if he did he would think of Cas’ hand in his and his mouth and the most terrifying and amazing kiss he’d ever…

“Fucking son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, everything in his head and his stupid heart about to tear him apart.

“Dean?”

Dean spun around. Of course Cas shows up now, the one time Dean isn’t begging him to be there.

“How the hell did you find me?” Dean demanded, every muscle tensing as Cas made his way towards him through the grass, skin pale and eyes shining in the moonlight.

“You were rather loud, it wasn’t hard,” Cas muttered, stopping a safe distance from Dean. Good thinking.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Dean warned, looking away from Cas' stupid, worried, perfect face.

“I doubt I’m in any danger, I have the amulet.”

“Yeah, well, I could have hit you with a rock or my fist or something,” Dean said, just to argue. “What the hell do you want?”

“I…” Cas’ voice was uncertain and weak in a way that still amazed Dean. “I needed to make sure you were alright.”

“Do I looking like I’m fucking alright?” Dean cried, taking an angry step towards Cas, who didn't flinch or move.

“No, you don’t.” Cas sighed. “You’re upset.”

“I am freaking out!” Dean roared back.

Cas, of course, didn’t look hurt or frightened; he looked confused. “Because we kissed,” Cas guessed aloud.

Dean rolled his eyes so violently that his head snapped back. “Yeah, and I’m not fucking ok with kissing my best friend who has only been human for two months and, oh yeah, also happens to be _a guy_!” Dean railed. His throat was raw and he felt hot and dizzy again.

“This is about my vessel…” Cas murmured. “Dean, if I could change that…”

“Well, you can’t,” Dean snarled. “You’re kind of stuck and that means I’m fucking screwed.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas whispered.

Dean looked up at him against his will, even knowing what he’d see. Sure enough, there it was; eyes downcast and pensive, face awash with guilt that made Dean’s chest actually physically ache.

“What do you want?” Dean asked again, though this time it was breathless and desperate.

Cas met his eyes, squinting in bewilderment. “Want?”

“Was that…is this just you making more mistakes? Or trying out brand new human urges or…what? What…What do you _want_?” Dean knew from the utter confusion on Cas’ face that the damn kiss had been none of those things. That sort of crap would never even occur to Cas.

“I want…” Cas began, his voice soft as the crickets chirped around them. His eyes searched Dean’s and Dean realized he was still breathing hard. Everything was suddenly too real and immediate, the way it had been when Cas’ lips had been a breath away from his and everything had clicked into place. It had been like countdown finally reaching zero and setting off a bomb.

Cas swallowed, conflict and uncertainty washing through his eyes. Dean clenched his fists. He didn’t even have the strength wish Cas wanted to take it all back, to go back to before. Because before wasn’t any better.

“I want you.”

Dean closed his eyes at the soft sound of the words: a small, resigned prayer.

“I just want…you,” Cas repeated. He was shaking his head when Dean opened his eyes to look at him again, something like frustration or despair in his face. “And I don’t know why or what that means but it’s what I-I feel and I…”

“Fuck…” Dean whispered, cutting Cas off as he crossed the distance between them in an instant and yanked Cas into a kiss.

It wasn’t like fireworks. No. It was like getting a bullet pulled out. It was an instant stop to an aching that had been building for…god, Dean didn’t even know how long. And it felt so good and was such a relief and hurt so much at the same time that everything exploded into just…feeling.

He held Cas’ face between his hands, determined not to let him go. For a few seconds Cas didn’t seem to know what to do with his arms or mouth, but then his hands were in Dean’s hair and on his neck and it was amazing. The feel of stubble beneath Dean's hands was alien, and he was pretty sure he’d never kissed someone so close to his height, or with arms quite this strong or even with a mouth this demanding. But it wasn’t terrifying or wrong or anything less than awesome because it was Cas and just that made his heart pound faster. That thought made his hands drop and weave into Cas’ shirt, pulling him as close as humanly possible.

Dean pulled back just an inch, their lips parting slowly as he did. He didn’t let go though. Cas’ arms were around his waist and Dean would have sworn that he could see stars reflected in the blue eyes staring at him. Everything was Cas. The sound of crickets and the smell of warm wind over the prairie and the rough texture of green cotton clenched in his hands and the faintest taste of earl gray on their lips.

“Are you sure?” Dean breathed. Cas kissing him, urgent and deep and hot was more than enough of an answer. It was too fast though, and once again they were not kissing, though he could feel Cas' breath against his wet lips.

“I am very sure,” Cas intoned, stern and deep, and Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” Dean sighed, though the word may have been lost as their mouths came together again.

When was the last time he’d kissed some like this? The last time just the feel of another body beneath his hands had been paradise and everything else had stopped mattering? There were no demons, just the feel of Cas’ thick hair between his fingers. The only angel that mattered was the fallen one whose hands were pawing at his back. Of course there were more immediate things. Like the sound of a phone ringing somewhere.

“Dean…” Cas murmured as Dean’s mouth trailed from down to his jaw. Dean smiled against Cas skin, because the sound was beautiful and the taste of Cas was strange and amazing and… “Dean, your phone.”

“Fuck.” Dean pulled back, yanking the phone to his ear. “What?” he barked.

“Um…did Cas find you?” Sam’s voice asked unsteadily.

“Uhhh…” Dean froze in panic. It would have been best to step away from the person his brother had just asked about, who he had just been kissing and who was breathing loud enough that Dean was worried Sam would hear. But he also didn’t want to move away because it was warm and good and if he got too far from Cas he might start thinking like a rational human being again and he was just so over that for the night.

“Yes or no question, Dean,” Sam prompted.

Cas raised a curious eyebrow three inches from Dean’s face.

“Yeah, yeah he found me…” Dean answered finally.

“And?”

“And what?” Dean echoed. Cas’ hand moved from Dean’s back to his hip and once again Dean wasn't quite sure how to form words.

“Are you two just going to fight out there all night?”

Dean blinked. Sam thought they were fighting. Which – understandable. Better that Sam think that than anything close to reality because Dean was in no way prepared for _that_ conversation.

“We’ll be in soon. Go to bed. We’re fine,” Dean snapped into the phone, hoping that Sam wouldn’t notice how thin his voice was. He ended the call without another word and surprisingly was kissing Cas again before the phone was back in his pocket.

“Sam is worried,” Cas stated between kisses, flat and matter-of-fact as usual, but slightly more breathless.

“Yeah…” Dean said the word in agreement, but they still didn’t seem to move. Not their feet anyway. 

“We should go back.” There was no conviction in the words, but sound of Cas voice was like a drug. And so was the feel of him smiling against Dean’s cheek. “We’re going to be here all night if we keep this up.”

 

~*~*~

 

“How do we still not have a microwave?” Kevin sighed to himself. There wasn’t anyone else to talk to and he’d become a bit too used to having solo conversations while he was translating the demon tablet. “Seriously, guys, twenty first century…”

Finally two blueberry poptarts rose listlessly from the ancient toaster. Kevin knew they’d be underdone, but another cycle and they’d be charcoal so this was fine. He shuffled out of the kitchen, eating as he went and checking for texts from Charlie on his phone. Nothing.

Kevin yelped and nearly choked on a poptart as he slammed into something tall and solid in the dark.

“Jeez! What the hell, man?” a familiar, very grumpy voice cried.

“Dean?” Kevin wheezed, groping on the wall for a light switch.

“What’s going…ow!” a deeper and more confused voice came, mixed with the sound of two bodies running into each other and what Kevin guessed was a table in the dark. “I told you it would be difficult to navigate in the dark.”

Finally Kevin found the switch and crackling, gold light filled the library just in time to illuminate Dean glaring, tight-mouthed, at Cas.

“What are you doing?” Kevin asked, looking between the two weirdly flustered and slightly rumpled men. Last he’d heard Dean had been found and was heading back, but that had been a while ago.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Dean stammered back.

Kevin blinked. He had to be tired because it seriously looked like Dean was blushing.

“Eating.” Kevin looked down at poptart in his hand.

Dean swallowed, his mouth twitching a bit. “Yeah, well…we. Uh…we didn’t want to wake anyone, so we…it’s late and we were…uh…talking outside and…”

Yeah. This was definitely weird because Dean usually didn’t babble.

“Okay…um, yeah. Whatever,” Kevin sighed, shaking his head. Dean gave his a strained nod as he gestured for Kevin to go ahead in front. Kevin took another bite and chewed slowly, because that made the silence slightly less awkward.

Kevin hesitated at his door, letting Dean pass him to get to his room, only because Cas was hesitating to his right. And then of course Dean was waiting, looking over Kevin at Cas and, yeah, Kevin was pretty sure now that Dean was blushing. He looked like he was about to say something then thought the better of it.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas said quietly. “You as well, Kevin,” he added when Kevin turned to him.

“Yeah, you too,” Dean muttered and in a second his door was slamming closed. Cas was in his room as well before Kevin could even process the new weirdness.

“Good night to you guys too,” Kevin breathed.

When he was safely into his room, he started texting before he even sat down.

>> **ok, your majesty, you win**.

He really hoped Charlie wrote back soon.

 

~*~*~

 

Castiel had been sitting on the edge of his bed for, he guessed, about fifteen minutes. There wasn’t much else he could think of to do. His brain was far too busy trying to understand the last few hours, so sleep was out of the question. His stomach felt strange, like he was simultaneously hungry but had also swallowed something buzzing and excited. And every time he thought back to kissing Dean his skin grew warm and he smiled uncontrollably. He was too excited and amazed and confused to even find his state ridiculous.

Of course he wondered what Dean was thinking, doing. Hopefully he wasn’t dissolving in a fit of profanity again, though Castiel assumed that would be audible. He had seemed…calmer when they finally decided to head back, and he’d held his hand until they reached the door.

Cas shook his head. He was smiling again. His face was going to be uncomfortable soon. And he still had no idea what to do. Well, maybe turning a light on would be useful. He didn’t want to run into any more furniture, even if he was a bit too happy to feel pain at the moment.

He toed off his boots as he clicked on the lamp on the desk. Dean, was right, he mused. He needed more things in his room, on the desk or on the walls. That might make it more human and comfortable. Maybe books…

Castiel wasn’t sure he’d even really heard the knock. Whoever it was didn’t wait for him to answer. Which meant it could only be one person. The urge to smile and the confusion as to why Dean was standing uncertainly at his door made his face feel like it was fighting itself.

“So, I couldn’t sleep,” Dean explained, shrugging as he stepped into the room and closed Castiel’s door quietly behind him. He was holding one of the books of Shakespeare they had dropped earlier that night. “So, I thought I’d read and then I just sort of...ended up here.”

“You want to...read?” Cas asked hesitantly.

Dean shrugged again, half of a bemused smile playing over his lips.

“I’m just…not quite ready to not be around you, ya know?” Dean’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and there was trepidation in his eyes as the met Castiel’s.

“I think I do,” Cas reassured him.

Castiel was sure there had to be some human protocols for moments like these, or appropriate things to say and do. As with a great deal of human rules though, he found he really didn’t care. Dean didn’t back away when Castiel crossed the distance between them. He didn’t flinch when Castiel touched his cheek. He just closed his eyes and tilted his head as Cas kissed him, careful and quiet.

Cas gasped as Dean seized him, the intensity of the kiss and the embrace rocketing into something that made his skin burn and his head feel deliciously fuzzy. He heard the dull thump of Shakespeare hitting his mattress as Dean pushed him back on to his bed.

Hands; on his arms, and on his abdomen, that was one of the few thoughts he could manage. Dean’s hands, warm and worn, alternately gentle and fierce on his skin were amazing. It almost made it difficult to also process the intoxicating feel of Dean’s mouth. He wanted to feel Dean’s skin too though, more of it than was probably allowed. Castiel's hands found Dean’s hips, pressed against his – which on it’s own was astonishing and fantastic – and then moved. He pushed his fingers beneath the warm cotton of Dean’s shirt and…yes…there. Skin. Warm and…

It was Dean who gasped this time, pulling out of the kiss and shaking.

“I’m sorry. I…” Cas apologized instantly.

“No, you didn’t…” Dean stammered. He was so close, Castiel could actually feel the heat from his face as he blushed. “It was…good…and that’s uh…” Dean looked at him, maybe expecting Cas to finish the sentence for him.

“Good is…bad?” Cas guessed. He could not be blamed for not understanding, as the presence of Dean above him was incredibly distracting.

“It’s kind of terrifying,” Dean confessed, his eyes sweeping over Castiel’s face and his thumb idly tracing the line of the other man’s jaw. Very gently, he kissed Cas again, then pushed himself off. Thankfully he did not leave the bed. “I don’t want to screw this up and I’m sort of in new territory, like _really_ new and if things go too fast I just…”

“I think I understand,” Cas smiled, sitting up, his shoulder pressing against Dean’s. “You want to…take it slow?” Dean laughed drily. It must have been something in his intonation, because Cas was quite sure he had used the phrase correctly.

“Yeah that,” Dean agreed. “Don’t want to end up like R and J, ya know? First kiss one night, dead a few days later.”

“Dean, we’ve discussed spoilers," Castiel chided and this time Dean’s laugh was hearty and deep.

“You wanna read some more then?” Dean asked. Without waiting for an answer he scooted up on Castiel’s bed, pushing off his boots and settling himself comfortably against the pillows.

“That…sounds like a plan,” Castiel smiled.

It took a minute to find just the right position, but soon they were pressed close together on the bed, Dean’s hand resting gently on Castiel's thigh.

“You should read the Queen Mab speech again,” Dean prompted, as Cas paged through the thick book in his hands.

“I don’t really think I do it justice,” Cas protested. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean smile.

“You do it way more than justice.”

Castiel found himself smiling as well as he began to read without further protest.

 

Dean wasn’t quite sure when he started to drift off. Somewhere halfway through Queen Mab, probably, since the speech seemed to be over in the blink of an eye. Cas didn’t prompt him for his lines though, he just kept reading. His voice was like good whiskey, Dean thought stupidly to himself. There was a the slightest edge, a burn; but it was warm and made the world soften…

“ _By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am;_  
_My name dear saint is hateful to myself,_  
_Because it is an enemy to thee,_  
_Had I it written, I would tear the word_ …”

How did they get that far? And had that been Cas yawning that had cut off the verse? He couldn’t tell; his eyes had been closed for a while now. Also, his head had found its way to Cas’ shoulder. Somehow. He shifted closer to the warmth of the body beside him, if that was possible.

“ _Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?_ ”

Dean laughed softly, sure that the sound of sarcasm in the words was part of a dream. All of this had to be a dream. Kissing Cas. Cas warm and real beside him. Whispering poetry. It was a whisper now, low and soft, fading into dreams.

“ _My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope it came through, but the meat of this chapter was supposed to be a call back to the balcony scene from R&J. Hope you enjoyed.


	8. Brave New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get out of the bunker...for a case. And maybe a date. It's because of the Shakespeare.

Miranda: _Oh brave new world that has such people in it!_

William Shakespeare, _The Tempest_  
Act V, Scene i

 

~*~*~

 

The sun woke him up. This was, in and of itself, an entirely new experience for Castiel. In months as a human he’d only had a few nights where he had not gasped awake out of some awful dream, or been woken by fear and some deep knowledge that it was time to move, that nothing was safe.

Just waking up to light streaming into his room through the small, high window would have been novel enough. But, in addition to that, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Dean Winchester sleeping beside him. And that was nearly a miracle.

They weren’t close, not really. There had remained a few inches between them throughout the night, and yet somehow Dean’s hand had found his. Romeo and Juliet was still open on the bed between them. The thought of larks and nightingales flitted through Castiel’s brain.

Cas didn’t move. The moment was too rare and lovely to disturb. It was quiet, and warm and safe. And he felt truly rested and restored for the first time since…he couldn’t even remember. The picture before him was simply too beautiful. Even more so when Dean finally opened his eyes, the light of dawn sparkling in the green.

“Holy crap what time is it?” Dean asked, stifling a yawn.

“I have no idea,” Cas answered softly.

Dean stared at him, a smile just barely waking on his lips. “Holy crap,” Dean repeated, finally looking at his watch. Dean pushed his hand through his hair, giving in to another yawn. “Sam probably thinks we’re dead.”

“You’re implying we should get up,” Cas stated, yawning as well but not moving otherwise.

“Probably…” Dean muttered. He didn’t move though, at least not to rise. Instead he reached for Cas, brushing the hair from his forehead and combing his fingers into his hair.

When Castiel smiled, it was instantly returned.

 

~*~*~

 

Sam blinked as thin morning light filtered in through the murky windows of the bunker. He’d slept later than usual but it was still quiet in the old rooms. Which was weird, because Sam was sure he hadn’t been the first person awake in the bunker for a while. He couldn’t smell coffee brewing or hear the click of a keyboard in the library or even the whistle of a teakettle.

He stumbled into the kitchen, by that point not expecting to find anyone there. It took him a few minutes to get coffee started, but soon the air was full of the dark, earthy smell and his brain started to function a bit better. Or at least well enough to wonder if Dean had actually been dragged back last night, since he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

Sam checked his phone as the coffee maker sputtered and steamed. Nothing from Dean, but there was another message, from Garth of all people.

>> **May have a job for you guys. Emailing deets. Peace** ☺

“Great…” Sam sighed. The last thing he needed was something else that Dean would go ballistic over for no reason. With a resigned shake of his head he shuffled off to let the coffee finish and retrieve his laptop from the war room.

Half an hour later he was on his second cup and deeply immersed in the records of the town of Gold Hill, Oregon. Garth had been impressively thorough…

“You did have some actual food along with the caffeine, right?” Dean’s voice came from behind him. Sam turned to scowl at his brother, but Dean’s face was much more ‘concerned caretaker’ than ‘I’m still pissed off at you.’

“Granola and almond milk,” Sam confirmed.

“I meant actual food, you dirty hippie,” Dean countered, rolling his eyes.

Sam smirked as Dean made a b-line for the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and milk. There was something…well, not really off, but different about his brother this morning. Sam watched Dean carefully as he filled up the kettle and set it on the stove then started cracking eggs into a bowl.

“Coffee’s already made,” Sam reminded him as Dean tossed empty shells into the trash with impressive accuracy.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Dean muttered, wiping his hands on his jeans before pulling out a fork to scramble the eggs. “Sorry you had to make it. Slept in.”

“You’re allowed to sleep in, Dean, it’s okay…” Sam replied, but something about the sentence struck him as wrong. “Wait…you never sleep in. Are you ok?”

Dean turned to him, eyebrows high and eyes suspicious. “Seriously, you’re worried because I _didn’t_ scrape by with four hours of shut-eye for once?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam pushed. “Is this about whatever you and Cas were fighting about? What was going on exactly anyway?”

“It’s none of your damn business, Sammy, okay?” Dean shot back, turning to the stove and pulling down a pan from an open shelf. Dean not talking about something that was bothering him, now they were back in familiar territory. Comforting.

“So, you’re still pissed at him? Great. That won’t be awkward.”

Dean shook his head, pouring what looked like an obscene amount of eggs for one person into the pan. “I’m not pissed. It’s…it’s fixed. Cas and me...We’re good.”

“You’re _good_?” Sam echoed incredulously. “First you’re sleeping like a human and now, after getting mad enough to storm out into the middle of the night, you’re _good_. Yeah, man you are so not okay.”

“Sam…” There was a warning tone in the gravel voice from the kitchen door. Sam turned in his chair to stare as Cas, who looked much calmer and more commanding than Sam had seen in a while. “Everything is fine.”

“I…wha…” Sam stammered, but Cas gave him a look that brooked no argument. Sam scowled, exhaling angrily through his nose just as Kevin peeked in the door.

“Did I miss something awkward,” Kevin asked fearfully. “Because I can go…”

“You’re fine, Kevin,” Cas reassured him. “Please feel free to continue your morning activities.”

“Got eggs if you want ‘em,” Dean offered easily. Sam felt like he was watching a scene from a play where he had missed the first act.

“I’m ok,” said Kevin who was already at the cupboard.

“Dude, you’re going to turn into a poptart if you don’t branch out,” Dean sighed, pulling some plates out and turning off the stove. “At least Sam’s weird food it supposedly ‘healthy.’”

“Thanks, mom,” Sam and Kevin grumbled in unison.

Dean didn’t respond, other than rolling his eyes and setting two plates of eggs on the table. In a strangely fluid maneuver, he lifted the kettle from the stove and poured hot water into the mug Cas had retrieved. In the next second Cas was getting hot sauce, salt and utensils on the table as Dean finally poured himself a cup of coffee.

“So, um, Garth may have found us a job,” Sam ventured, his brain refusing to process that somewhere along the line the bunker had become _domestic_.

“Oh yeah?” Dean prompted, looking genuinely interested as he stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I hope it’s something good. No more exploding succubuses.”

“Succubae,” Cas corrected automatically.

“Yeah that.”

Sam shook his head.

“How does three people found dead with their eyes gouged out at the Oregon Vortex sound?” Sam flipped the computer to show Dean the article.

“What’s the Oregon Vortex?” Kevin asked through a mouth full of unheated poptarts.

“It’s an area of elevated electromagnetic energy where reality has a way of…not working quite right,” Sam explained. “Unlike some other tourist traps, it’s a legit mystery spot.”

“So we avoid it on Tuesdays?” Dean quipped.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “I think it’s worth checking out, wouldn’t be bad to get out and about anyway.”

“I dunno man, you’re still not 100%,” Dean muttered, his eyes remaining on the screen.

“Dean, I’m _fine_ and we’re stuck on the demon e-mail virus since you won’t…”

“Ok. Fine.”

Sam’s mouth snapped closed. That had been way too easy.

“Fine?”

Dean looked up and met his eyes seriously. “You stay here and figure out a non-fuck-up-able test for the new spell with Kev and Charlie; Cas and I will hop on the Oregon trail,” Dean stated firmly.

“Dean…” Sam protested, looking between his brother, Kevin (who had frozen mid-bite) and Cas (who was concentrating intently on his tea).

“If you wanna do this job, this is how we do it, Sammy.” Dean’s eyes had that really annoying, unquestionable look to them. It made Sam scowl reflexively.

“Fine. But when we figure out the spell, we are testing it, no wimping out,” Sam pushed back.

“Fair enough,” Dean conceded, again confounding Sam. “Hey, man,” he nodded to Cas. “Train leaves in an hour, kay?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Cas agreed, though there was a bit of the typical bewilderment in his eyes.

“And you’re sure you guys won’t kill each other before the job’s done?” Sam needled.

Dean didn’t even bother too look away from Cas before answering. “Nah, we’ll be fine.”

 

~*~*~

 

“Dude, what the hell did you pack?” Dean grunted as he caught Cas’ duffle from him and threw it in the back seat.

“Just some books I found in the library,” Cas shrugged. The gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way to the passenger door of the Impala.

“You’re brining research? Did Sam sneeze on you or…”

Cas sent Dean a mild glare as they opened the doors and took their places in the car.

“No, literature. You said it would be a long drive,” Cas explained.

Dean glanced back over his shoulder to where Sam and Kevin stood at the bunker door. Sam still looked annoyed and suspicious, of course. Whatever. Dean would deal with it when they got back. “Yeah…I did…”

“Well, if I’m reading it’s a valid excuse to get you to turn down the radio.”

Dean stared at Cas and a beat passed before the blue eyes softened and the corners of his mouth twitched up.

“That’s not funny,” Dean huffed and gunned the engine.

“I believe it is,” Cas shrugged.

They fell into a contented silence as they made their way to the highway. The sky above was gray with high, summer clouds. Thankfully no threat of tornados. The vast, flat prairie was a washed-out combo of dirt and dry yellow grass outside the windows.

“Sam did not seem happy about being left behind,” Cas finally stated.

Dean blinked a few times. He hoped the guy never learned about subtlety. “Yeah well, he’ll survive,” he muttered.

“He continues to worry that you don’t trust him,” Cas continued. “Or that you lack confidence in his abilities. Which is a valid concern on his part.”

“What?” Dean balked. “No, that’s…that is so not what this is about.” Cas raised his eyebrows in interest. “Well, yeah, I’m worried that the kid is still sick but…that’s not why I benched him.”

“It’s not?”

Dean looked away, focusing intently on the road and trying to tell himself that he was not fucking _blushing_.

“I just wanted to, uh…have some time with…you know…” Dean stammered, his throat annoyingly tight.

“I don’t know,” Cas replied, utterly serious. Dean glanced over and the confusion and worry on Cas face was ridiculously…endearing. Or maybe just cute. Or something like that. Whatever it was it made Dean shake his head and grin.

“You, genius,” Dean confessed. “I wanted some time alone with you.”

“Oh,” Cas said softly. Dean caught a small smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, well, that was before I knew you’d be bringing the entire library with you,” Dean added, smiling crookedly himself.

“Well, I could read aloud,”

Dean’s smile broke into a grin as he looked over at Cas. His face was more hopeful and content than Dean had seen it in months. It was kind of amazing.

“Sounds like a cool plan,” Dean agreed.

After an awkward and likely unsafe maneuver to retrieve a book from the back seat – wherein Dean in no way noticed a certain shirt riding up or a certain well fitting pair of jeans – Cas was settling himself against the window, a tattered book in hand.

“I thought this one might be appropriate for a long journey,” Cas explained. “Especially considering Odysseus’ knack for aggravating higher powers…”

Dean laughed quietly, leaning back from the wheel and relaxing as Cas began to read.

“ _Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many devices, who wandered full many ways after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy…_ ”

 

~*~*~

 

“So, where are Dean and Cas again?” Charlie asked in confusion as she set up her laptop in the Men of Letters library. Kevin moved a large pile of notes aside to accommodate her, incredibly glad she’d made it so soon.

“Job,” Sam answered tiredly.

“Just the two of them…?” Charlie ventured, her eyes going wide.

“Yup,” Kevin nodded. He gave Charlie a look which he hoped conveyed a clear message of _I seriously have no idea what’s going on but there is totally something going on and please don’t ask me because it’s weird enough for me as it is._ Or something close.

“Just got a text that they’re almost in Nevada, didn’t want to spend the night in Utah for some reason,” Sam explained, checking his phone again. “Aw, crap.”

“What?” Charlie asked, looking around in concern.

“It’s past Crowley’s feeding time,” Sam explained with a level of frustrated annoyance that was high even for him.

“Crowley?” Charlie echoed, voice weak. “The ex-demon king you’re keeping locked in your basement? Awesome.”

“You don’t have to help,” Kevin assured her.

“Wasn’t planning on offering, but thanks,” Charlie answered.

“Come on, Kev, no use drawing it out,” Sam commanded.

Kevin’s feet were heavy as they made their way to the dungeon. He’d managed to avoid this for several days. Usually it was Sam and Dean who undertook it, while Cas watched him worriedly.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Crowley drawled from the dark as they entered, Kevin lurking in the doorway. “Always good to see you, short round. How’s the fam?”

“Let’s lay off on the commentary track today, okay?” Sam grunted. Crowley smirked as the much taller man yanked him up and unfastened some chains. Kevin forced his hands to release from fists.

“Bert and Ernie too busy doing something useful to pay me a visit?” Crowley inquired, his voice as smooth and cruel as ever. Sam scowled as they dragged Crowley into the hall. “Don’t be sad, I like you two better any way, so much less sensitive.”

“You mean less likely to punch you in your smug face,” Sam muttered.

“That’s one way to put it,” Crowley agreed.

“There are other ways to hurt you, don’t worry,” Kevin muttered. For a second, Crowley caught his eyes and actually looked…scared. It was enough to make Sam do a double take, and to make Kevin smile.

 

~*~*~

 

“I don’t understand why we need to go this far out of the way for lunch…” Cas muttered, but it was more rhetorical than an actual complaint. He was worried that they were delaying the investigation, but if it meant extending the length of the trip, he was happy.

It had been a very pleasant trip so far. They’d made it through _The Odyssey_ and several repeats of Dean’s most revered albums. And they had also just talked for miles, as washed out desserts had given way to buckskin colored hills dotted with juniper and pine. Finally reaching the Siskiyou mountains had been a literal and figurative breath of fresh air. Currently the windows were rolled down as they drove and Cas took in the sight of slopes covered in deep green.

“Trust me, Sam and I stop here every time we’re in the vicinity; it’s ridiculously good,” Dean reassured him.

“I hope I’m not disappointed,” Cas agreed and Dean grinned.

Castiel very much liked how easy the broad smile came to Dean’s face. Over the miles for the last few days he had seemed to be smiling more easily. The very idea that Castiel himself might be somewhat responsible for that change made something inside him swell warmly. Their good moods could of course also be attributed to having slept at least eight hours without nightmares for three nights in a row. Once they had figured out the trick of kissing and touching for an extended period of time before falling asleep close together in the same bed, sleeping had become much easier.

“And here we are!” Dean declared.

Cas turned from watching Dean to look at the group of wooden buildings located right by the interstate off-ramp and read the sign. “Is this supposed to be funny?” The restaurant (or possibly a truck stop, he wasn’t sure) was boldly titled ‘Heaven on Earth.’

“Funny? What…” Dean asked back in confusion as he killed the engine. His eyes followed Castiel's to the sign and his face fell. “Oh. No…I…uh…this isn’t…I mean it wasn’t supposed to be…This...this is irony.”

“Irony?” Cas echoed. Dean’s face was a mix of supplication and anxiousness. Slowly Cas smiled and Dean relaxed in relief. “It is rather amusing.”

In forty-five minutes, Cas had gone from recognizing the irony of a former angel dining at a place called Heaven on Earth to fully appreciating that the name was not that great of an exaggeration. The most painful part had been choosing what confection to order. The whole front the café had been filled with cobbler, cake, pie, cookies and an entire table of cinnamon rolls and the staff had happily provided free samples of everything.

After very satisfying cheeseburgers, Cas had settled on the apple crumble – served warm with whipped cream and Dean had chosen Marion berry pie. Castiel’s noises of approval were not quite as explicit as Dean’s but he understood completely why they had driven sixty miles out of the way for this.

“I’m adding this to the list of very good things about being human,” Cas stated as he looked down at the – sadly – empty plate as they rose. “Very high on the list.”

“Hey, you didn’t even get a cinnamon roll,” Dean lamented, rubbing his stomach contentedly.

“Why don’t you take one to go!” a friendly voice offered. In a second the waitress was handing Cas a cinnamon roll larger than most loaves of bread in a plastic container and Dean was grinning. The sound of guitar from Dean’s phone drew his attention away and Cas moved up to the counter to pay.

“Heya Sammy,” Dean answered, turning and walking towards the door.

“Is this the first time you’ve visited us?” the waitress asked, her pink lips and dyed blonde hair as bright and crisp as her smile.

“Yes, though I’m sure there is a version of this place in the actual heaven,” Cas answered.

The woman’s smile only faltered for a moment. “Oh, well…thank you.”

Cas nodded and glanced over his shoulder to the door where Dean was on the phone, though he seemed distracted by the large rack of brochures beside a pastry display case.

“We hope you’ll come back again!” the waitress piped up, handing Cas a receipt and a plastic bag for the cinnamon roll.

“It is highly likely we will,” Cas smiled back.

“Was I right or was I right?” Dean asked, grinning as he closed his phone and, curiously, shoved something into his pocket.

“Your knowledge of and taste in bakeries across the country is very impressive,” Cas conceded.

“You know it. Now, let’s go find some evil creeps that want to kill us,” Dean beamed.

 

~*~*~

 

“What website did you two say you were from?” the man with the graying ponytail asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Worldwide wacky, weird, and wonderful wanderings,” Dean responded effortlessly. “Dot net.”

“Well, we’re always happy for some press, so I guess I can make an exception and show you around, you’ll have to forgive the, uh…mess.”

The Oregon Vortex was not quite as impressive as the name made it sound, Dean thought. It was mostly a bunch of paths and log cabins in various stages of falling over, stuck out in the middle of the woods. The only thing that gave any indication that it was weird was the giant sign, inviting guest to the “House of Mystery” and the fact that Dean’s head had started splitting the moment they pulled up the gravel road to the parking lot. Also it was quiet. Like, creepy, no birds, no nothing, quiet. Oh and Cas had developed the same headache. At least Dean wasn't suffering alone.

It hadn’t been too surprising to see a large “CLOSED FOR MAINTAINENCE” hung at the entrance, but Bill, who Dean assumed was a manager or part owner, had still been in the gift shop, looking listless. Bill was probably in his late sixties and was wearing a denim shirt and some sort of silver hippie necklace. He looked like he really missed the summer of love.

“Yeah, so we heard about what happened,” said Dean, casual as could be, even as Cas glanced at him a bit too nervously. “Terrible.”

“Don’t I know it, man, and the papers didn’t even get half of it right,” Bill responded with a sigh.

“You mean three people weren’t found dead here?” Cas asked and Dean winced. Bill didn’t even bat an eyelash as he led them out the back door of the gift shop and into a wide, dusty area marked by a few free-standing wooden poles.

“Oh, they were, but it wasn’t like they said. The _man_ , you know, the _media_ , they said the eyes were gouged out. I swear, someone is covering shit up,” Bill answered. Dean got the sense Bill had a lot of idea about what ‘the man’ was covering up. “But I found those kids, man, and those eyes were _burnt_.”

Dean’s stomach dropped and he felt Cas go stiff beside him.

“Burnt?” Dean echoed. “Like with a lighter?”

Bill shook his head.

“Nah, man, like there were burned up from _the inside_!” Dean tried very hard to keep his poker face – or at least look like this news was disturbing because people burning up from the inside was a bad, weird thing in general and not because it meant freaking angels and he had dragged Cas right into a kill zone _again_.

“That sounds unlikely.” It was surprisingly Cas that said it. Bill blinked at him.

“That’s what the fuzz said! But, man, they were doing something in there, something…” Bill breathed out dramatically, his eyes going wide. “You see, if this had been anywhere else but the vortex, I’d think it was crazy too.” Dean really doubted that, but okay. “There’s energy here, man, the natives wouldn’t come here, except for a few brave shamans. We’re a doorway, to other corners of the universe. I reckon that’s what those poor slobs were up to, trying to harness that and…” Bill made a gesture with his hands to indicate, Dean guessed, flames exploding slowly from his eyes.

“Wait, I thought they were in the woods…” Dean asked.

“Nah, man, they broke into the House of Mystery!” Bill crowed. “That’s why we had to close, they left all sorts of graffiti! The police said it was satanic but I think…” Dean raised his eyebrows as Bill leaned into them, conspiratorial in every sense of the word. “ _Aliens_.”

“Uh…” Dean muttered, praying that Cas would not respond to that. Thankfully his companion looked utterly confused by the statement. “You know we’ve seen a lot of weird…stuff. Maybe we can take a look. See if it matches some of the stuff in Roswell.”

Bills eyes lit up and he gestured for Dean and Castiel to follow him into a wood shack that looked like it should have collapsed a few centuries before. Or maybe it had collapsed partially, and just had never finished.

‘House’ of mystery was really a generous term, but Dean did get the gist when they walked it. Everything was at weird angles and he seriously couldn't figure out if he was leaning or the house was falling or if the earth had some how moved. The horizon line was impossible to find. Cas looked a bit seasick but, like Dean, was more focused on the four foot wide circle and symbols burnt into the floor boards.

“Now, look at that!” Bill declared. “This place is a hundred years old and look at the damage they did, but it wasn’t a fire! Not a normal one…”

“No, it wasn’t,” Cas agreed darkly, his eyes narrowing as his bent to examine the marking.

“Like I said; aliens,” Bill smiled.

Dean knelt beside Cas, carefully touching the scorch marks with two fingers.

“This is not alien, Dean,” Cas informed him flatly, but low enough that Bill wouldn’t hear. “It’s enochian.”

“That’s what I guessed. Any idea what it says?” Dean could tell by the dark look in Castiel’s eyes that he did.

“It’s a spell to open a portal,” Cas explained, his voice sad and quiet.

“A portal? To where? Narnia?” Dean hissed back, glancing over his shoulder at Bill, who had thankfully stepped a few feet back.

“Heaven.” Cas stood abruptly, not taking any time to let Dean process that. “You’re probably correct, the script is certainly…not of this world,” Cas told Bill with what passed for tolerant kindness in the language of Castiel.

“I knew it!” Bill grinned. “But, ok, lemme show you the rest…we want the good stuff on the blog too you know, cause the fuzz is just gonna shut anything else down…”

Forty-five minutes later Dean was both happy and worried to get back in the Impala. The rest of the vortex tour had been surprisingly fun, even with the knowledge that angels had roasted a few shmoes trying to break back into heaven. They’d been shown various “mysterious phenomena” at the house of mystery, which Cas had explained were just optical illusions – a broom standing sideways; a ball rolling up a hill. And they had received a demonstration of the propensity of the vortex to warp reality by changing people’s heights.

Cas was still staring at the two pictures on Dean’s phone. The first showed the two of them with their backs to the wooden poles and a long stick resting on their heads. The pole angled slightly down towards Cas. The second showed them in switched positions and amazingly, the poll angled UP towards Cas now, as if he’d grown, or Dean had shruck. Both of them were certain that this was a place they needed to take Sam.

Dean sighed as they pulled away, grateful that the his headache vanished as they reached the road.

“So, what do you think happened? Angels broke back in and fried some poor saps doing it?” Dean jumped in. It was useless to sugar coat this.

“No,” Cas replied. Dean raised an eyebrow. “Those weren’t innocent people that died, they were the angels.”

“Angels?” Dean echoed.

“They must have thought that the energy of the vortex would make breaking down the wall between this reality and heaven easier.” Cas explained. His voice was steady but Dean could hear the slightest hint of guilt behind the words. “Whatever they did, it ignited their graces. Destroyed them from the inside.”

“Ouch,” Dean muttered. “You’re sure?”

“Not entirely, but proximity to a heaven from which they are exiled would likely have that effect.”

“So, that’s it? Two and a half days on the road and case closed?” Dean scoffed.

“No, I assume you’ll want confirmatory evidence. Perhaps we should examine the bodies,” Cas shrugged and Dean let out a laugh.

“Yeah that sounds like loads of fun. But, yeah, just to be sure, we can stick around a day or so; I think the county morgue's in Medford or something. We can go tomorrow.” Dean turned to look at Cas, who was surveying him with slightly more curiosity than usual.

“It’s not that late, Dean,” Cas stated slowly. “We could go now. I don't mind.”

“Or we could, I dunno, do something that’s actually fun,” Dean countered sourly.

“Fun?”

“Yeah, it what people do when they’re…” Dean gestured vaguely between them, suddenly feeling a bit too warm. “I mean if they have...like we…if they’re…”

“In a relationship?”

Dean nearly swerved off the road. “What? No…I mean yeah…I meant, uh…”

“Is that not the correct term?” Cas asked so seriously Dean almost let his head fall to the steering wheel.

“It’s uh…I meant that we could, maybe go somewhere. You know. Together.” Cas said nothing and Dean gulped. “Like, uh, eat somewhere where the food isn’t cooked in a gallon of grease then after we could…”

“So you are asking me to go on a date?” Cas cut him off, tilting his head curiously.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, uh, I guess I am.”

“Oh,” Cas replied, thoughtfully. Dean waited a beat.

“Oh?” Dean echoed. “ _Oh_? You gonna give me an answer?”

“Answer? You assume there is a possibility I wouldn’t want to?”

“I don’t freakin’ know! I don’t do this very often!” Dean railed. It was weirdly true. Screwing around and diving head-first into a domestic homelife he had done. Dating - not so much.

“I would be very happy to accompany you on a date, Dean, of course,” Cas answered. Finally.

“Good,” Dean breathed, relaxing at last.

After a long pause Cas made a curious noise. “Where exactly did you want to go after eating? I know a film is traditional but I…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan,” Dean grinned.

“You make it sound like a hunt,” Cas chuckled.

“Nah, more like…happy coincidence,” Dean shrugged and dug into his pocket for the flyer he’d found at the diner. He handed it to Cas and watched with satisfaction as a smile spread over his face.

“I think this is a good plan,” Cas muttered.

 

~*~*~

 

“Wait, wait. So, there’s nothing there to kill and you’re _okay with that_?” Sam demanded into his phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Three less pissed off angels to deal with. Not a bad thing,” Dean replied way too easily.

“Okay, sure, but then why are you not turning around and heading back?”

Charlie was staring at him from behind her computer with an eyebrow raised.

“We’re still gonna check out the bodies, we’re not idiots,” Dean scoffed.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam grumbled. “Call if you figure anything else out…”

“Will do.”

The call ended and Sam was left staring grumpily at his phone. He knew, intellectually, that he had no reason, or even right to be pissed off, but the last few days hadn’t necessarily been easy. The spell was still crap and the nagging feeling that Dean was for some reason avoiding him, along with the fact he really wasn’t feeling well (which made Dean right, which also pissed him off) was all combining to sour his mood.

“I’m going to check on Crowley,” Sam stated. Kevin’s eyes went wide and Charlie opened her mouth to protest. Sam was down the hall before anyone could really argue though.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Crowley purred the second Sam made it into the dungeon. “Feeling lonely, Moose?”

“Feeling frustrated,” Sam shot back.

Crowley looked him over from where he was reclining on the cot. He carefully raised an eye brow and Sam shook his head in mild disgust.

“You know what we’re doing right? The spell? I mean you have to have guessed,” Sam pushed back and Crowley gave a small, smug smile.

“Trying some sort of mass exorcism? Yeah, I gathered.” Crowley confirmed. “Insane idea, Dean’s I gather?”

“Doesn’t matter, we can’t get the spell right,” Sam replied. He took a slow step towards the demon. “Even with the demon tablet and every book here, there’s something missing. We can’t figure out how to make sure the demons get back to hell.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” Crowley chuckled.

“Because you’re going to help us fix it.”

 

~*~*~

 

“Have you ever done this before?” Castiel asked uneasily, noting that Dean was fidgeting. He himself had an extremely unsettling feeling that something agitated and twitchy had taken up residence in his stomach.

“What part?” Dean asked back, swallowing and glancing around.

“Any of it,” Cas explained.

“Not…no not like this.”

“Well, the first part was…very nice,” Cas assured him.

“Nice?” Dean echoed, clearly offended. “ _Nice_?”

“I have very little basis for comparison.” 

“Oh, well then, great…” Dean muttered.

“I’m sure this part will be very enjoyable,” Cas reassured him. “It’s something I’ve been...hoping to do for a while now.”

“Yeah, me too…” Dean sighed. “I’ve, uh, never actually done…well, anything like this before.”

“Really?” Cas squinted at him, not sure if he was surprised or pleased that this would be a first for both of them.

“Yeah, well, I never really liked…or thought I could like stuff like this before, ya know?” Dean explained, looking rather bashful, which made Cas smile despite himself. “I mean, hunters don’t really…”

“Go to plays?” Cas finished for him curiously.

Dean gave another heavy sigh, looking up around the courtyard in which they had found themselves. The throng of people milling around them were paying them little mind as they made their way towards the theaters.

“Yeah, or, you know, anything… _cultural_ ,” Dean agreed at last.

“Well, you’re not a typical hunter,” Cas attempted to reassure him, which earned a weak smile.

“That’s for sure,” Dean muttered.

Castiel assumed there was some deeper meaning in the statement, but didn’t attempt to push further. The evening so far had indeed been very pleasant and he was in no way going to ruin it.

The town of Ashland, Oregon, about fifteen miles south of the Vortex, was incredibly charming. It was small, colorful and full of people who smiled and nodded at strangers as if they were greeting an old friend (this was actually at first disconcerting, but one became used to it quite easily). Dean had made a comment about it being ‘pretty cool, for a tourist town’ which Cas took as a seal of approval. It was a bit perplexing to Cas that somehow one of America’s oldest and largest Shakespeare festivals had found itself several hundred miles from any major population center, but that didn’t seem to stop people coming.

They had taken a bit of time to read about the festival in the afternoon, as part of deciding which play to see. The season, which lasted ten months produced almost a dozen plays, from musicals and Shakespeare to modern works. They had both agreed that the evening’s performance of _The Tempest_ in the outdoor, Elizabethan style theater would be their best bet. That was only one of three theaters however, which Cas found quite impressive.

Diner had been at an Italian restaurant near the theater, on the main street, called Macaroni's. Dean had found the name amusing, but the food had been excellent and it was indeed a nice change to eat something that resembled a plant. It didn't quite compare to Heaven on Earth though. Now was time for the play. 

“Well, let’s do this,” Dean declared, a look of determination passing over his face. To Castiel's great, and pleasant, surprise, Dean offered him a hand before heading into the theater.

They found their seats easily and both were more engrossed in taking in the details of the theater than reading the program or noticing anyone around them. The stage was indeed a Tudor style construction: white plaster and brown wood with windows and doors and a balcony. A more modern shell extended around it to encircle the audience, but it was entirely open to the sky.

The lights lowered and the audience stilled and Castiel was surprised to find that he was holding his breath. There was nothing to be afraid of and yet the anticipation was a thrill on it’s own.

A clap of thunder and a flash of light made everyone jump as the stage was suddenly filled with sailors and rigging: a ship in the midst of a storm…

It wasn’t like a movie, Castiel thought distantly, as the story played out before him. It was more immediate and visceral than that. It was impermanent and at the same time…ancient. Words written hundreds of years before, spoken again now and still able to transport and teach. And then seconds later they were gone. It reminded him, in a strange way, of stepping into another person’s dreams as he had once been able to do. Time was different and there were moments, as words swept over the audience, clear in the night air, that it reminded him not of dreams, but of heaven.

 

Dean felt like he’d blinked and suddenly it was intermission. It didn’t really strike him as strange that somewhere along the way he’d ended up holding Cas’ hand again. He didn’t even think or care that people might notice or talk about that. He just…sat as the lights came up. When he finally turned and looked at the ex-angel beside him, the smile on Cas’ face and look in his eyes told him they were thinking the same thing.

“That…this is awesome,” Dean laughed.

“That is a very good word for it, yes,” Cas agreed.

Dean waited for a few of the other audience members around them to move or start their own conversations before turning to Cas. “You think old Will knew something about…you know, our kind of stuff?” he asked thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, all the magic and trapping a spirit to get revenge and stuff, sounds almost like something we’d find on a case,” Dean explained, flipping through the program.

“He lived in a far more superstitious time,” Cas countered.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true…” Dean muttered. “What was Ariel’s line though? _Hell is empty…_ ”

“ _All the devils are here,_ ” Cas finished for him.

“Just saying…” Dean shrugged and Cas smiled, so he counted it as a win.

“Well, nothing is impossible,” Cas conceded after a long moment’s thought.

“That’s for sure.”

Soon the lights had dimmed again and they were swept back into the story. The last of the evening light had faded and in the few moments that Dean tore his eyes from the stage, he could see stars in the clear sky above.

The thing that amazed him most, more than the story, or the actors, or even the words, was that the combination was magical and just seemed to make the world…stop. Everything went calm and focused on one idea, one moment as the action still and a player would speak.

As Prospero spoke, he held Castiel’s hand tighter without even thinking, lost in the stillness and beauty of the words, goosebumps racing over his skin.

“ _Our revels now are ended. These our actors,_  
 _As I foretold you, were all spirits and_  
 _Are melted into air, into thin air:_  
 _And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,_  
 _The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,_  
 _The solemn temples, the great globe itself,_  
 _Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve_  
 _And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,_  
 _Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff_  
 _As dreams are made on, and our little life_  
 _Is rounded with a sleep_.”

Dean smiled when Miranda spoke of the Brave New World that now waited before her. He glanced to Cas beside him as the action unfolded: Prospero finally returning to the home he had been exiled from. Dean wondered, his heart falling a bit at the thought if Cas was Miranda, or Prospero. He never talked about getting his wings back and everyone had just assumed that the human thing was permanent…but what if it wasn’t?

At last Prospero stood alone in the spotlight; Ariel, the fairy, now free from his control, stood at the edge of the stage, staring up at her old master. A look of regret and calm filled the actress’ face.

“ _Now my charms are all o'erthrown,_  
 _And what strength I have's mine own,_  
 _Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,_  
 _I must be here confined by you,_  
 _Or sent to Naples. Let me not,_  
 _Since I have my dukedom got_  
 _And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell_  
 _In this bare island by your spell;_  
 _But release me from my bands_  
 _With the help of your good hands:_  
 _Gentle breath of yours my sails_  
 _Must fill, or else my project fails,_  
 _Which was to please. Now I want_  
 _Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,_  
 _And my ending is despair,_  
 _Unless I be relieved by prayer,_  
 _Which pierces so that it assaults_  
 _Mercy itself and frees all faults._  
 _As you from crimes would pardon'd be,_  
 _Let your indulgence set me free…_ ”

Maybe Cas was Prospero, Dean thought as the words floated through the air, as powerful as any spell he’d ever heard or seen. Maybe he was too. Both of them relying on another for forgiveness and the strength to keep going. And maybe they were both Miranda, because he was certainly in a new world of his own…

Dean had never cried because something was beautiful before, and he didn’t now. But he was close. He was holding hands with a human who had once been a celestial being who had lifted him from hell; he was on a pretty awesome date with a guy who he liked kissing to a really amazing extent. He had just heard and seen on of the most amazing and beautiful things in his life and…well, maybe there was one tear. But it wasn’t just about the beauty of it all; it was because he was happy. And truly felt, for the first time in a long time, free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Oregon Vortex, Heaven on Earth, the Stratford Inn, and of course, the Oregon Shakespeare Festival are all real places/things. Check out Southern Oregon, it's a magical place!


	9. "Things bad begun"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas return to the bunker as things change, maybe not for the better.

 Macbeth:  _Thou marvell’st at my words,_

 _But keep thee still,_  
 _Things bad begun_  
 _Make strong themselves, by ill_.

William Shakespeare, _Macbeth_  
Act III, scene ii

  
~*~*~

 

The ride back to the hotel – a clean and relatively comfortable place called the Stratford Inn on the main road into town – was quiet. They had both clapped their hands red at the final bows. Dean had even managed an startlingly loud whistle to signal his approval for Prospero.

It struck Castiel, as they pulled into the parking lot, that this was the first time since leaving the bunker that his nerves had weren’t on edge with anxiousness and want the moment before entering a room alone with Dean. Of course, the realization of that very thing made his skin feel warm and tight and a glance at Dean’s thoughtful green eyes made his heart pound. So much for that.

He wasn’t quite sure of the reason for the nerves, since experience over the last few nights had shown him that once they were alone, any lingering reservations over intimate contact Dean, or even he himself had, seemed to fade quite quickly. And especially tonight after what had been officially declared a ‘date’ he should have been more relaxed rather than nervous. These considerations however didn't calm him.

“Did you memorize anything?” Castiel asked uneasily, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket as the exited the Impala.

“Nah, I was enjoying it too much,” Dean shrugged. “And I think there’s something about seeing the words on the page, ya know?” he continued, as they strode through the lobby and down the brown-carpeted hall towards their room. “Like, I can see it in my head and read from there when I want to remember lines?”

“You have a photographic memory,” Castiel told him with a small smile.

“I don’t know about that,” Dean countered, digging the key out of his pockets. He turned to Castiel and gave a small, confident smirk. “I just remember details about important stuff.”

“Poetry and plays?” Castiel asked back, a little tremor of nerves and anticipation wriggling in his stomach as Dean continued to stare.

“And other stuff,” Dean answered, his voice low and his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “’Course, I bet all the actors will tell you, it’s better and better with rehearsal.”

Castiel inclined his head curiously, fighting a smile. He was quite sure the conversation was no longer about memorization or poetry. “Rehearsal?”

Dean grinned, his eyes sparkling as he opened the door. Castiel only had a second to examine him as Dean glanced back and forth down the hall then grabbed Castiel by his jacket and pulled him in to the room. The sound of the door slamming behind them was drowned out by the pounding of Castiel’s pulse in his ears as Dean tugged him into a hungry kiss.

“Yeah, rehearsal,” Dean breathed against his neck and Castiel laughed back, low and deep, as he threaded his fingers into Dean’s hair.

“I thought only a single kiss was customary at the end of a first date,” Castiel ventured as Dean’s mouth lingered over his throat. It was Dean’s turn to laugh. “Is this normal?”

Dean straightened his head and glowered at Castiel. “Dude, when has anything about us ever been normal?”

“That’s a very fair point,” Castiel agreed as Dean shook his head. Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s chest, smiling at the warmth and contact and potential. “Now, as you were saying about rehearsals.” 

 

~*~*~

 

“You’re sure about this?” Sam asked for the fourteenth time. “Completely sure?”

“No, I’m risking my life and limb on a bluff and a hunch. Of Course I’m sure, you brainless yeti!” Crowley snapped back.

Sam glanced around the dungeon then back to the eighth draft of the spell written out on his legal pad. There was nothing left to do.

“Of course, you will need one more thing,” Crowley purred. Sam scowled. Naturally.

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“My blood,” Crowley answered with a self-satisfied smirk. “And I have a few conditions before I give it to you or tell you how to use it.”

“Great,” Sam muttered. “Just…great.”

 

~*~*~

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Cas asked again.

“I’m fine,” Dean grumbled.

“You know, I _can_ tell when you’re upset,” Cas countered sourly.

“I am not upset!” Dean snapped. Cas gave him an extremely doubtful look.

“Or when you’re lying poorly.”

Dean’s jaws tensed and he focused on the road, a low stream of profanity playing on loop in his head. He didn’t even know why he was hiding it. He’d started out the day a bit antsy knowing that they would make it back to the bunker by nightfall. Five hundred miles from the destination antsy had turned into actual, concrete worries. Sam wasn’t dumb, Sam would know. And so would Kevin and, damnit he didn’t even want to be in the same _room_ with Cas while Crowley was anywhere close.

Four hundred miles and the scenarios became much clearer in his head. He’d turned up the music for two hours then tried to relax in the sound of Cas reading Homer from the passenger seat. But at the last gas station he’s hit the john and noticed a goddamn _hickey_ on his neck.

“How did you even know how to do that?” Dean burst out.

Cas squinted at him in total confusion.

“Oh, don’t give me the look, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Dean snarled. He pulled down the collar of his shirt and jabbed towards where he new the purple mark still lingered.

“Oh that,” Cas murmured, still confused.

“Have you been watching porn again?” This earned Dean a glare.

“I did not get the idea from any form of media, Dean,” Cas sighed and Dean answered with a scowl. “I learned it from you.”

“What?” Dean yelped.

“Would you like to see…” Cas shifted and began to pull up the hem of his shirt.

“What?! Fuck! No! I mean…Damnit I am _driving_!” Dean sputtered. Cas glanced at him, very clearly contemplating something, which of course made Dean even more nervous.

“You did seem to enjoy it at the time.”

Dean nearly swerved off the road.

Cas gave a defeated sigh. “I…I apologize for…” Cas groped and Dean felt his stomach twist.

“No, man…it’s not that…I mean, yeah it’s that but…” Dean protested and Cas’ face shifted back to confused, lost puppy mode and Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not _you_ , ok? You’re…you’re awesome and the last five days have been awesome but now we’ve got to go back and…” Dean shook his head.

“Your…apprehension is about returning home?” Cas ventured carefully.

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel and gave a tense nod.

“You are worried about others becoming aware of…” Cas didn’t seem to be any better at finding a word for it than Dean was.

“Yeah,” Dean grumbled. “I…this…it’s all new and…”

“Do you want to stop?” Cas cut him off.

Dean’s focus snapped to the other man, though he stayed blessedly within their lane. “What? No!” Dean balked. “I just…”

“I understand,” Cas interjected. Dean looked back and forth from the road to Cas’ calm blue eyes five times, his brain not quite processing. “This is…significant. You need time. As long as you still want it though, I don’t care who knows or what is said.”

“You don’t?” Dean asked, eyebrows high.

“As long as I have you,” Cas shrugged.

Dean fought back a crooked smile, turning his gaze back to the highway. It suddenly seemed less terrifying.

“No more hickies though,” Dean added as an afterthought.

“On easily visible areas,” Cas amended without skipping a beat.

The tires screeched and Dean swore. He was sure if he swerved one more time they were going to get pulled over.

 

~*~*~

 

“Are you planning on telling us how you figured this out any time soon?” Charlie asked nervously. “Because the suspense is sort of killing me.”

“We’ll wait for Dean and Cas…” Sam muttered. He wanted to deal with the inevitable freak-outs at the same time. More efficient that way.

“So, they drove like, a thousand miles to…not kill anything?” Charlie probed.

“That’s the gig, sometimes there’s nothing to kill,” Sam shrugged. “But at least now we know that there are angels trying to break back into heaven.”

“Yeah, how is that not incredibly scary?” Kevin interjected.

Sam turned to the younger man, brows furrowed.

“Sam, um, in case you forgot we have the angel tablet and I’m the human decoder ring,” Kevin explained thinly.

“Kev, we’re not gonna let anyone, angel, demon or other get you,” Sam reassured, but his stomach was churning. This had not occurred to him. The sound of iron hinges creaking and the bang of the bunker door jolted them all from the conversation.

“Home, sweet batcave,” Sam heard Dean sigh from the hall. “Hope you guys didn’t go too wild…Charlie?”

“Hey,” Charlie grinned sheepishly from her seat as Dean entered and saw her. Cas lingered behind him, surveying the gathering.

“What the hell are you doing back…Did you figure out how to fix it?” Dean demanded turning to Sam in surprise.

“Don’t look too shocked,” Sam scowled. “Welcome back by the way.”

“How’d you do it?” Dean asked.

Sam rose, sighing. He felt Kevin and Charlie’s eyes follow him as well.

“Yeah, Sam,” Kevin needled.

“I…” Sam swallowed. Even Cas was looking at him suspiciously now. “Crowley, ok? I got help from Crowley.”

“What? Sam, he’s a murderer!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Wait, the demon in the dungeon?”

“Sam, I don’t think that was wise.”

“Everyone, shut up!” Sam yelled, silencing the cacophony. “Just, listen to me, for once.” Dean sent him a deadly glare but didn’t speak. “We were stuck, we needed something…”

“Do I need to remind you how working with demons, including that one, has royally fucked us over before?” Dean barked. Sam noticed Cas wincing behind him.

“This is different, he’s a prisoner and he's almost human.”

“Is he?” Dean snapped back. “Cause I’m pretty sure that bastard wouldn’t help you without making a deal that helps him. What did you offer him, Sam?”

“It doesn’t matter…” Sam muttered.

“Of course it matters,” Cas shot back wth an intensity that made Sam swallow and look away.

“I told him that if the spell worked, he could…he could go.” The room erupted into protests too loud and angry for Sam to even make out. “Hey!” The others quieted. “I’m not an idiot. If we let him go, we’re finishing the spell. We’ll make him human.”

“He deserves to die,” Kevin said softly, shaking his head. “Sam, I know we want to do this but…he doesn’t get this…”

“Kev’s right, this is not an option,” Dean agreed.

“Dean…”

“I need a shower and…” Dean grimaced and threw up his hands. He strode out of the library without another word.

Kevin pushed his chair violently away from the table and followed, muttering angrily under his breath. Cas looked forlornly between the hall where the two disappeared and Sam.

“Cas, come on…” Sam attempted.

Cas sighed and shook his head. “I agree with them, Sam,” Cas sighed. “Believe me, it’s not worth it.” Cas bent and retrieved the duffels that had been dropped in the commotion and left.

Sam slumped in a chair, glancing hopefully at Charlie.

“Oh, man…don’t…” Charlie protested. “We can…think of something else?”

“Kinda too late for that,” Sam muttered.

“Crap,” Charlie whispered.

 

~*~*~

 

Three more shots echoed through the gun range and Dean scowled at the target. He’d been through two boxes of ammo, and the grouping over the paper man’s heart was as tight as it was ever going to get and he still felt like shooting things for another hour. It didn’t really seem to be helping. He sighed angrily, pulling out the ear plugs and throwing them on the floor.

“I hope that indicates you are done processing your feelings through manly violence,” a deep voice commented from the doorway. Dean spun to scowl at Cas.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people when they’re armed!” he snapped. “And I am not…where the hell did you get the idea that?”

“Those were Charlie’s words,” Cas reassured him with a sigh, stepping closer. He was holding a plate with a sandwich on it. “She also mentioned something anatomically incorrect about hearts and stomachs. She’s a very perplexing person.”

Dean rolled his eyes. The demon dealing déjà vu had almost made him forget the other reason he was on edge.

“She told you to bring me food?” Dean asked.

“We attempted dinner, but no one would look at each other or sit down. There was very little conversation. It was uncomfortable,” Cas explained simply. “This will probably be much more pleasant,” he added with a shrug, handing Dean the plate.

“Yeah, probably,” Dean muttered, leaning against a wall ad taking the meal.

“For what it’s worth, Dean, I completely agree with you about this,” Cas commented as Dean took a huge bite. “This is not a good plan.”

“youbettrnobesayinthajuscauseofmuh” Dean tried to say over a mouthful. Cas gave him a curious squint and Dean swallowed a bit too quickly. “I mean: you, uh, don’t just have to agree with me cause we’re…”

“I am well aware of that, Dean,” Cas replied. He was frowning but his eyes were warm. “I assure you that when you are wrong, I will certainly tell you, not matter what our relationship.”

“What do you mean _when_ I’m wrong,” Dean shot back with a scowl.

“It is inevitable,” Cas replied easily.

“Yeah, well, you’re inevitable.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up.”

“ _Methinks the lady doth protest too much_.”

“Oh for fuck's sake.”

 

~*~*~

 

Charlie slid over on the couch closer to Kevin.

“So, uh…any news?” Charlie asked sweetly.

“I already told you, they had some big fight and then they were all weird and then they left for five days, that’s all I know,” Kevin reassured her.

Charlie sighed, her shoulders drooping. “Darn.”

Kevin turned his focus back to his computer.

“We should talk to them.”

Kevin nearly jumped off the couch.

“Are you nuts? Have you met Dean? Or Cas?” Kevin protested. “They don’t…talk. Not about…”

“Not about what?”

This time both of them jumped. Sam was staring at them from the door.

“Nothing. They talk about nothing,” Charlie squeaked.

“Charlie…” Sam threatened.

Kevin gulped. “Dean and Cas they’re just…uh…really worried about you?” Kevin attempted. The perturbed frown on Sam’s face was not the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“Great. That’s good to know,” Sam muttered and turned away, leaving Charlie and Kevin blinking after him.

“I think we just made things worse,” Charlie murmured.

Kevin nodded in agreement.

 

~*~*~

 

“Hey, are we totally Shakespeare wasn't a hunter?” Dean asked without looking up from his book as Castiel opened the bedroom door.

“Not comepletely,” Castiel muttered, shutting the door quietly behind him. “What makes you suspect that?”

Dean’s eyes flitted up as Castiel took a seat at the foot of the bed, cradling his mug of tea as he settled on the memory foam. He gave a warm, crooked smile which made the corners of Castiel’s mouth twitch up automatically in return.

“All this magic and fairies and witches and stuff in some of the plays, you know. It’s pretty damn familiar,” Dean explained.

“The supernatural has always been a part of human life,” Castiel argued back. “And it was much more real to most people in those days…”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Dean shrugged. “Would have been cool though.” Dean pushed himself over from the center of the bed and nodded for Castiel to join him.

“What are you reading?” Castiel asked as he repositioned himself so that he was beside Dean, their arms pressed lightly together.

“ _Macbeth_. I was in the mood for something stabby.”

“And it has occult elements?” Castiel pried.

“Yeah, it’s got the three witches, _bubble bubble_ and all that crap but…I dunno…” Dean turned his head to meet Castiel’s interested eyes. “I mean, yeah the witches are creepy but, they don’t actually do anything really evil, ya know?”

“I haven’t read it yet,” Castiel replied simply and Deal rolled his eyes.

“No, I mean…” Dean sighed. “All the bitches do is suggest stuff. They tell Macbeth he’s gonna be king and that’s why he kills the king. Well, that and his crazy wife tells him too.”

“They just give the ambition already in him a push?” Castiel ventured.

“Exactly. And after a while, he gets so caught up in keeping his power, he doesn’t need any more pushes. And he goes sort of nuts and starts seeing ghosts and stuff…but they’re just his guilt? Kind of…I guess…”

“You’re very astute,” Castiel complimented, and Dean turned away, scowling gently. “I mean that, Dean. Go on.” Castiel nudged him gently with his shoulder.

“I dunno, I mean…I think, demons or not, Will was in a pretty bad place when he wrote this,” Dean answered thoughtfully, running a finger over the words on the page. “Or he was trying to say something about power and corruption and how what Macbeth did cost him all the things that really mattered…”

“He went after power and lost everything,” Castiel mused quietly. Dean looked up and caught his eyes, understanding the memories that were haunting him.

“Yeah, but…he’s just…” Dean floundered. “He just wants power for power’s sake, you know…”

Castiel sighed, nodding but unconvinced.

“He does lose it all, his wife goes nuts with guilt. And then the worst shit happens cause then he loses hope. Like, he has nothing, no faith, no anything.”

There was a warmth that came from Dean’s words, Castiel noted, despite the chill of painful memory.

“Here, listen, this is…I think it’s kind of the moment he just gives up and knows he’s going to die.” Dean read aloud:

“ _Tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow,_  
 _Creeps in it’s petty pace from day to day,_  
 _To the last syllable or recorded time,_  
 _And all our yesterdays are lighted fools_  
 _The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!_  
 _Life’s but a walking shadow; a poor player_  
 _That frets and struts his hour on the stage,_  
 _And then is heard no more; it is a tale_  
 _Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,_  
 _Signifying nothing.”_

“That’s very bleak,” Castiel commented.

“It’s also a load of crap,” Dean shrugged and Castiel drew back in confusion. “Life matters, man, just living it…it matters.”

“Sometimes, I wish it didn’t,” Castiel sighed quietly. “Or at least that it it mattered in a more…positive way.”

“If you’re trying to get all mopey about your life not mattering now or some shit, I _will_ punch you,” Dean told him, his voice tense. “You matter okay. You matter to me.”

The smile that came to Castiel’s face was instinctive and it, along with Dean’s words, lightened something inside him. “Thank you,” he whispered. Leaning in to kiss Dean was instinctive too. A reflex that had developed so quickly. Or maybe it just had always felt right, from the first moment.

The sound of heavy footsteps shuffled past the closed door and Dean sprang back.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized immediately.

“No, I am,” Castiel replied instantly. “I should go. I…I appologize for not asking if it was permissible to be here,” he added, moving to leave the bed.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, catching his wrist. “Did I say it wasn’t permissible? Stay.”

Castiel smiled weakly and settled back into the warmth beside Dean. “Tell me more about the occult elements of the play,” he asked calmly.

Dean smirked and turned back to the book. “Well, uh, people think the play itself is cursed. Weird shit happens in theater that do it and you’re not supposed to say the name…” Dean explained. Castiel’s eyebrows raised in suspicion. “In a theater. I think we’re safe.”

“How does a play get cursed? Witches?”

“Nah, that’s not the witches either,” Dean answered. “Crazy old lady Mac, she summons dark spirits in act I,” Dean explained flipping back a few pages. “So, that she can, you know, convince her husband to kill the king. She’s the one that really pushes it.”

“That sounds both unwise and horrifying,” Castiel muttered, leaning in closer to Dean and peering closer at the text.

“It seriously is,” Dean agreed. “Listen to this stuff: “ _Come, thick night and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife sees not the wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark to cry, hold, hold_!”

“She seems charming,” Castiel muttered.

“Oh, and earlier…” Dean stopped, his eyes snapping up from the page as Castiel’s fingers came to rest softly on his lips.

“Maybe we shouldn’t read more of this out loud,” Castiel suggested softly, holding Dean’s gaze. Fine lines deepened around Dean’s green eyes as he smiled, taking Castiel’s hand and moving it only slightly aside.

“Well, then you gotta think of something else to entertain me, cause I’m really not tired yet.”

Castiel found himself smiling again.

 

~*~*~

 

The distant sound of a door slamming jolted Dean into consciousness. His heart pounded as he tried to remember where he was and what they were fighting and why…no he wasn’t tied up. He had a very clingy ex-angel spooning him, one weirdly heavy arm wrapped around his waist. Dean rolled his eyes on principal.

He closed his eyes, trying to fall back asleep. Because this was nice. They were on his mattress, finally, which was so much better than Cas’ or some skeevy hotel monstrosity. And it was warm and there was just the barest hint of dawn peeking through the windows. And the feel of Cas’ bare skin pressed against his back was even more than nice. Too bad his shoulder was sort of killing him and the arm wedged under his head was starting to lose feeling. And now his knee itched.

He shifted experimentally but it only served to amp up the pain in his shoulder. He moved more, trying and failing to disentangle their legs. He huffed in frustration as Cas grunted and pulled him back closer to him.

“You’re clingy in the morning, you know that?” Dean muttered.

“You fidget,” Cas answered, his voice annoyed and muffled by Dean’s shoulder.

“That’s still better than clingy,” Dean argued, trying in earnest to turn over.

“I don’t think they are comparable in an easily quantifiable manner,” Cas replied through a yawn as Dean finally managed to move so that they were face to face.

“How can you talk like that before the sun is up?” Dean laughed.

Cas ignored the question and yawned again, running a hand through his truly spectacular bed head. Dean pushed his own hand after Cas’, intentionally undoing the half-hearted attempt at combing. It earned him a gentle glare.

“I like the electrocuted look on you,” Dean explained with a shrug.

Cas shook his head, smiling. “Should I go?” he asked innocently.

Dean thought back to the noise that had woken him up. Odds were it had been Sam dragging himself out on a run. Which Dean hoped wasn’t going to kill him, but it was as good a chance as any to get Cas out.

“Do you want to go?” Dean asked back, surprising himself. Cas smiled at him; the stupidly sweet, lopsided smile that made Dean seriously consider just not leaving the room or bed at all today. There was still a ridiculous pile of crap waiting outside the door, but here it was…it was good.

“I think I want…” Dean cocked an eyebrow at the thoughtful expression on Cas’ face. “Breakfast.”

“Seriously?” Dean balked and Cas chuckled. “You’re hopeless.”

“Well, you did ask,” Cas shrugged. Dean rolled his eyes as he untangled him self from the sheets and started the search for shoes. His jeans weren’t too wrinkled from sleeping in them.

“Just, uh…wait five minutes before you come in, kay?” Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder as Cas stretched. Well, it started as a glance but turned pretty quickly into staring.

“That’s fine, of course,” Cas nodded absently.

Dean grabbed a shirt from the floor and pulled it over his had as he opened the door to the hall.

“You should probably wear a shirt too…” he suggested automatically over his shoulder. He smiled back at the scowl and turned away.

And straight into Charlie.

“Oh. My. God!”

“Charlie…”

“I freakin’ _knew it_!” Charlie squealed.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to make a fist. “ _Charlie_ …” Dean repeated, but the redhead was grinning and bouncing up and down.

“Shut up, Dean, cat's out of the closet, I mean, don’t shut up, I need details, but _oh my god_!”

Dean groaned and leaned back on the door. “Charlie, I swear, I will _end you_.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dean nearly fell as the door opened behind him. The sight of Cas looking confused and still shirtless made Charlie grin even wider and Dean want to step into an alternate dimension. "Godamnit..."

“Oh, we are so alright…” Charlie cackled her eyes obviously straying to Cas' chest and the obvious hickies on it.

“I…uh…” Cas fumbled looking back and forth between Charlie and Dean. “Nothing untoward occurred.”

Dean didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

“Dude, go…take a shower or something,” Dean ordered. Cas opened his mouth to protest then shut it again at Dean’s glare. “You hungry?” Dean asked Charlie.

“Starving,” she replied, her smile not fading.

“Come on,” Dean sighed, guiding Charlie away from the confused, half-naked, new human and down towards the kitchen. “Charlie I swear that if you talk about this...” Dean warned under his breath as the rushed through the halls.

“What, you mean you don’t want Sam to know you’re banging the angel?”

“Charlie!”

Charlie jumped back and compacted herself like a turtle, eyes wide and innocent. “So, you’re…not, uh, teaching Cas the joys of humanity?”

“No!” Dean replied instantly and Charlie’s eyebrows flew up. “Ok, yes, well….maybe. I…it’s complicated, okay?” Dean collapsed into a chair and let his head fall into his hands.

“Dean, I…it’s okay If you’re freaking out,” Charlie told him gently, taking a seat behind him. “No one is gonna blame you for that. Definitely not me.”

Dean sighed and looked up at Charlie. Her face was all earnestness and encouragement now which was almost as annoying as smug and hysterical.

“This…Cas and I…it’s all…really freakin’ terrifying. Like, _all of it_ ,” Dean confessed at last. Charlie raised an eyebrow and Dean rolled his eyes in response.

“So you guys haven’t…”

“ _No,_ ” Dean growled and felt his heart start to pound at the thought.

“But you want to…”

And now Dean’s face was hot and he was looking away and coughing.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Charlie supplied for him. “Well, if you want any, uh…information, I’m here for you.”

“Oh my god, Charlie,” Dean groaned, staring at her in disbelief. “And…aren’t you the wrong flavor of gay to help with that anyway?”

“Dean, I’ve been reading slash fan fiction since was fourteen, I know my stuff,” Charlie answered coolly.

Dean shook his head. It was _so_ too early for this.

“Ok, whatever,” Dean muttered, rising to begin breakfast. At least that would be a nice distraction.

“Just sayin’, man, I’m here for you,” Charlie chirped.

Dean shot her a dubious smile. “I know, Charlie,” he said. “And…thanks.”

“Now, I promise not to blab to Sam if you give me some details,” Charlie grinned.

Dean glared back at her.

 

~*~*~

 

“You know, I usually save the light bondage for the second date,” Crowley sneered as Sam unlocked the chains around his neck and pulled a table in front of him.

“Just, don’t…talk,” Sam ordered and Crowley gave a small chuckle through his nose.

Sam knew very well that this was going to get him a hundred different levels of crap from Dean, and probably Cas and Kevin too, but at this point, he didn’t really care.

He’d started the day trying to run, failed miserably and spent ten minutes on the side of the road coughing like an old man and another twenty trudging back to the bunker. Stepping into the kitchen to awkward stares and uncomfortable silence really hadn’t helped.

He grimaced thinking about Charlie’s panicked face, and Cas looking nervously between Kevin and Dean. Sam had turned tail and walked right back out. The whole day had been like that. He’d walked in on Charlie and Dean talking in the library and gotten a glare from Dean that would have probably killed small animals. Even Cas had been cagey when Sam had run into him.

So, he’d decided to say screw it. This was the plan, it was going to work and he was going to make it happen.

He dropped the laptop down in front of Crowley. And then pulled a knife from his belt.

“Do it now, the spell…blessing thing, or whatever,” Sam ordered. Crowley looked up at him and grinned.

“So, they turned you down, did they?” Crowley smirked. “Well, can’t say I’m too surprised.”

“They need proof it works, so that’s what I’m getting,” Sam retorted.

“And what about our deal?” Crowley pushed back.

“I’m not backing out,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

“Still, why should I do this? I mean, Dean – and I’m guessing it’s Dean – doesn’t trust me, or you, enough to go through with it. Where’s my assurance that I get anything out of this?”

“You’ve got my word,” Sam answered, his hands balling into fists.

“Ah yes, you’ll cure me and everyone will all live in peace and harmony reading Shakespeare and making moon eyes at each other.” Sam scowled. “I’m hurt you lot haven’t already asked me to come play. I’m really a brilliant actor. Saw those plays when they were the hot new thing, you could learn a bit.”

“Are you going to do this or not?”

“I always like the Scottish play myself,” Crowley continued to muse. “Of course I’m biased, but really. It does tell you so much about people. How it’s so easy to get them to do terrible things with just a little push, just the right devil on their shoulder. Don’t you think, Moose?”

“Are you trying to warn me?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“Just saying, Sam,” Crowley smirked. “Old habits, blah blah blah…”

“This isn’t…” Sam protested but Crowley raised a hand to silence him.

“What’s that one speech…ah yes.  
 _Come, seeling night,_  
 _Scarf of the tender eye of pitiful day;_  
 _And with thy bloody and invisible hand,_  
 _Cancel and tear that great bond_  
 _Which keeps me pale. Light thickens,_  
 _And the crow makes wing to the rooky wood,_  
 _Good things of day begin to droop and drowse;_  
 _While night’s black agents to their prey do rouse._  
 _Though marvell’st at my words, but hold thee still,_  
 _Things bad begun, make strong themselves by ill.”_

“What the hell s that supposed to mean?” Sam asked unsteadily.

“It means, lets get started, and tonight we’re doing a test drive.”


	10. "Strange, dear; but true, dear."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things become more heated, and much more awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize so deeply for the lag between updates. It looks like I'll be snowed in for most of the weekend though, so the last chapter should be coming along soon!

_Strange, dear, but true, dear,_  
_When I’m close to you, dear,_  
_The stars fill the sky,_  
_So in love with you am I._

 ~Cole Porter, _Kiss Me, Kate_

 

~*~*~

  

“You know, I personally think that meat sauce is superior to meatballs in every way,” Charlie offered uneasily. Only Cas even managed to look up, his face its usual tangle of interest and bewilderment. “I mean, really; who wants to eat a big hunk of meat and bread crumbs, huh? And like, especially when you just get two meatballs, what are you supposed to do with that? And they’re all dry and bland…”

“Charlie.” Dean’s voice was dark and annoyed. “What the hell?”

Charlie gulped.

“I believe she’s trying to alleviate the tension at the table,” Cas offered.

Dean rolled his eyes but Charlie sent Cas a warm, encouraging smile.

“I’m _trying_ to make conversation,” Charlie said firmly. “Feel free to jump in if I’m getting boring.”

“Think we passed that exit a few miles back,” Dean muttered and took another bite of spaghetti.

Charlie scowled. “Come on, Dean, don’t you have any opinions about meat? Or balls?” Watching Dean sputter and choke on his pasta was probably the most satisfying sight Charlie had seen in a good long while.

“You okay there, man?” Sam asked suspiciously. Charlie would have cheered, since it was the first words he’d actually spoken to Dean in over twenty four hours, but Dean’s following glare and transition to an even deeper shade of red diminished the moment.

“I’m…I’m fine,” Dean finally managed to grumble. Charlie didn’t fail to notice that his eyes darted to Cas, who was, as usual, completely focused on Dean. “Really,” Dean added.

“Sure, whatever,” Sam muttered back and Charlie wanted to slam her head on the table.

Silence settled over the table, punctuated only by the occasional clink of silverware and frustrated sighs from anyone not named Winchester. Charlie had never actually seen so many people focused on either not looking at each other or hiding that they were looking at someone else.

“So, are we…uh, gonna do anything actually fun tonight or is it just gonna be more award silence?” Charlie finally asked.

Cas caught her eye with a look of relief. “I would be happy to begin another play, I believe it’s Sam’s choice again,” he offered with a crooked, hopeful smile.

“Hey, no, I’ve never had a turn to pick,” Charlie protested. Dean and Sam seemed to be having a competition for who could give her and Cas the most annoyed frown. Sam was winning by a mile. Kevin took a slow bite of food and sank further into his chair.

“I apologize, that’s completely fair,” Cas agreed, ignoring the others. “What would you be interested in reading, Charlie?”

“Oh, I dunno, what’s a good one about dealing with bitchy, stubborn people who don’t discuss their problems like adults?” Charlie asked and it was Kevin’s turn to choke a bit.

“Based on titles and some summaries, I believe  _The Taming of the Shrew_ could be apt,” Cas offered flatly. Dean gave his…angel…friend…boyfriend…whatever, a betrayed glare.

“I think that’s a good call,” Charlie grinned. “Come on, I know that one’s got some of the really naughty insults too. Super fun.”

Before anyone could argue anymore, Charlie grabbed Cas by the sleeve of his sweater and tugged him after her towards the library.

“I think the other copies of the complete works are in our room…” Cas protested, his voice dour and deep with concern as Charlie began to search over the research tables.

“Which room is that again, Cas?” Charlie asked back with a quick wink. She was hoping for some blushing, but the confused look Cas sent her was good enough.

“Charlie…” Dean’s voice came in warning from the door behind them. “A little less pushing would be cool.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Charlie smiled innocently.

“Just…it’s not happening,” Dean said. She wasn’t sure if he meant reading the play or letting the big, gay, Cas secret out of the bag. If there was one thing she’d gathered from the heart to heart with the man earlier in the day it was that the only person he assumed would be more weirded out by the Cas thing than him was his brother. Charlie personally thought this was bullshit, but there was no use arguing with the guy. Better to mock him without mercy.

“Come on, Dean, I know you want to read the ‘my tongue in your tail’ bit,” Charlie teased. For a moment she was sure Dean was going to pass out.

Between the table and the hunter, Cas narrowed his eyes and tilted his head in thought. “Why would…”

Charlie snorted in laughter as Dean huffed and tried to form a response.

“What’s so funny?” Sam asked sourly as he entered. Charlie burst into a new peel of laughter.

“Charlie made a comment regarding…”

“Nothing,” Dean cut Cas of immediately. “Just…nothing. No-no…reading…anything tonight, okay?” Dean commanded firmly, trying to regain some composure as Charlie stifled her giggles.

“Wel,l then are we actually going to talk about how we’re going to deal with the demon email virus thing?” Sam shot back. “Or maybe what the hell is up with…all of you?”

That was enough to silence Charlie. She sent Cas a mournful glance, noting that he looked more tense than she’d ever seen him. Dean looked between Sam, Charlie and Cas and shook his head balefully.

“I…screw it. I’m…I’m going…somewhere. Bed. Room. Just…screw this.” Dean pushed back out of the room, shoving past Sam without making eye contact.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Good night to you too, bro,” he sighed, before shaking his head at Charlie and Cas and heading out in a pointedly different direction from Dean.

“I’m not sure what just happened,” Cas murmured, frowning in the empty space.

“I think making Dean uncomfortable with naughty gay innuendo was maybe a step too far” Charlie shrugged. “I don’t think he’s over our convo this morning, poor thing.”

“He has seemed…more reserved than usual since,” Cas agreed. “Though I’m not sure what you could have discussed that would make him particularly unhappy.”

“Oh, I don’t think it made him unhappy, sweetie,” Charlie smiled, closing the distance between her and the ex-angel. “Well, maybe the part where I called him an idiot for not telling Sam about you guys did, but the other stuff...I think it made him, uh, curious? And that maybe put him on edge? Well, more on edge.” Charlie squeezed Cas’ shoulder as he continued to squint in confusion.

“On edge?”

Charlie sighed and gave Cas pitying smile. “Like, maybe we talked about, you know…how things would be different rounding third base with a guy and he turned really red and I made fun of him for an hour. You know. On edge.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas sighed in clear frustration. “Why would discussing American sports…”

Charlie raised a hand to silence Cas. “Honey, we were not talking about sports.” A smile spread across Charlie’s face. “Just go ask him about it, I bet he’ll be happy to explain.”

“I’ll…do that,” Cas scowled and turned away. He passed a perplexed looking Kevin as he left the library.

“Dude, what is going ON?” Kevin demanded, raising his arms.

“I may have sort of vigorously encouraged the further carnal corruption of an angel of the lord,” Charlie grinned. “Among other things. This should be fun.”

“Carnal…wha…oh my god!” Kevin’s hands flew to his hair. “Oh, damn it Charlie, I don’t need those...that’s like talking about parents having sex! Ugh.”

 

~*~*~

 

Sam stared down at the papers in his left hand and the key in his right. Crowley’s instructions, as they were, seemed pretty simple…except for the part where he needed to sneak the King of Hell out of the bunker past his pissed off brother and friends to summon a demon. The fact that he was doing this mostly alone was not making him feel any more at ease. 

He heard the muffled sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the bunker and hoped it was Charlie and Kevin disappearing into his room to duke it out on whatever videogame they were obsessed with today. It was now or never.

Sam slipped quietly into the hall, tucking the dungeon key into a pocket and checking that he was alone.  He moved with stony purpose down the hall, gritting his teeth as he passed Dean’s closed door. Dean thought he was some pathetic, sick moron who couldn’t even be trusted with…anything, so screw him and his stupid door….

“Sam?”

Sam jumped at the sound of Castiel’s voice. The dark haired man was standing in the middle of the hall looking perplexed.

“Uh, hey Cas…” Sam muttered, trying to fold the papers in his hand as subtly as possible. “I’m just…uh…”

“Me too,” Castiel replied quickly. Sam nodded and strode past him and out of view as quickly as he could. He only had a second to really wonder why Cas was standing alone in a hall looking confused before he reached the door to the store room.

The bookcases hiding the dungeon slid back with a dull scrape, filling the air with dust.

“Showtime, then?” the demon lilted from the dark.

 

~*~*~

 

Staring at the ceiling was a really fucking boring way to wallow, Dean thought bitterly to himself. But since he couldn’t shoot anything or drive or do anything remotely productive staring at the damn ceiling of his room would have to do for now.

He wasn’t expecting a knock at the door. Or the cautious, deep sound of Cas’ voice from the other side. “May I come in?”

Dean sprang up and opened the door, shaking his head in consternation. “You knock now?”

“I thought it might be wise, given your agitation,” Cas shrugged as Dean closed the door behind them, sighing heavily.

“I am not…” Dean’s protest was cut off as Cas’ mouth slammed against his. Dean relaxed instantly into the kiss.  It was familiar and thrilling at the same time. A shock of pleasure and comfort like a splash of cool water on a blazing hot day. He knit one hand into Cas’ hair and pulled him close with the other, nipping at his soft lips as he did. Cas pulled back half an inch, nuzzling his nose against Dean’s.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that for several hours. It was very distracting,” Cas explained, his voice low and soft. He kissed the line of Dean’s jaw almost like an afterthought.

Dean laughed as Cas ran his hands slowly over his back. “Several hours, huh?”

“Mmhmm,” Cas murmured in reply. Dean felt the smile against the sensitive skin of his throat and laughed again.

“Well, getting distracted by this kind of stuff…sort of the human condition, sorry to tell you,” Dean said before dipping to catch Cas’ mouth in a new kiss. This one was deeper, longer, hungrier. As they drew apart Dean couldn’t for the life of him remember why he had been staring angrily at the ceiling a minute before.

“I think I can tolerate that aspect of mortal life, if this is the trade off,” Cas answered calmly. Dean couldn’t tell is he was serious or trying his hand at being seductive. Probably a little bit of both.

“Yeah, it’s real…tolerable…” Dean muttered pushing in to taste Cas again. Cas drew away, examining him. It occurred to Dean that ‘tolerable’ was maybe not the best compliment he could give a person.

“Charlie said you were flustered because you and her were discussing sports,” Cas stated.

Dean blinked, suddenly thrust back into reality. He was seriously going to kill that girl. “She…what?”

“Something about third base? I believe it’s an idiom I’m not familiar with. She suggested I ask you.”

Dean fell back a bit, choking of the air in his throat. Killing might actually be too nice for Charlie.

“She…uh…well…I…” Dean stammered. He could feels his cheeks getting warm which was a whole new level of ridiculous.

Cas cocked his head, steadfastly refusing to let Dean squirm too far from his arms. “I assume it has something to do with physical intimacy.”

“Wow, you sure know how to make it sound sexy,” Dean blurted out and earned himself an unamused glare for his trouble. “Yeah, uh, it’s sort of a…” Screw it. He’d have to translate this in to Cas-speak. “A system of terminology quantifying how, uh, intimate two people have been.”

“Oh,” Cas muttered, looking away and clearly turning the idea over in his head. Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes and almost won. “And it’s based on American Baseball, so…” Cas said, recapturing Dean’s attention and holding his gaze. “This, right now, would be what?”

Dean gave a crooked, and very likely dirty smile. “The kissing? That would be first base.”

“Ah,” Cas murmured before kissing Dean again.

Dean sucked Cas’ breath into his own mouth, melting into the contact. Each part of it was amazing – warm skin under his fingertips, soft lips, wet mouth, the scent and the heat, but all together it was more than amazing, it was…there had to be a less corny word for it than intoxicating. He just couldn’t really think of one.

“I like this base,” Cas stated, his voice even deeper than usual.

“I like second even better,” Dean grinned back and pulled Cas towards his bed.

“What are the parameters?” Cas asked as they crumpled onto the mattress, his legs on either side of Dean’s hips. They were kissing again before Dean could get out an answer, but he wasn’t in too much of a rush.

“Well, touching. More kissing. Anything above the waist I think is the general rule,” Dean finally managed.

“That’s all?” Cas rumbled back. His mouth found its way back to Dean’s neck, his teeth grazing skin and tongue following after. It made Dean shiver and swallow hard to keep his concentration.

“Well, shirts are generally discouraged,” Dean added, his hand slipping under the edge of Cas’ tee to find warm, bare skin. He liked that Cas still shivered t at the contact. It was a reminder that, while doing this with another guy was pretty new for Dean, _all_ of it was new for Cas.

“That seems like an important rule.” Cas replied, serious and a bit breathless at the same time, as Dean impatiently pulled the tee up and over his head. It left his dark hair tousled and spiky and really damn sexy.

All of Cas was pretty damn sexy, Dean managed to think to himself before it was Cas’ hands pushing off his over-shirt and trailing down his arms as they fell into another kiss. He was pretty sure he heard a muffled grumble containing the words ‘layers’ ‘unnecessary’ and maybe ‘ridiculous’ as Cas tugged at Dean’s tee. That thought left his mind quickly as well, as their chests finally pressed together, skin against skin. Dean’s hands roamed easily over Cas’ back and, tracing lines and dips that he hadn’t yet memorized; tightly muscled shoulders, tan skin, lithe arms.

Cas pushed him back onto the bed, his mouth casing down to Dean’s chest as he did. Dean hissed in a breath in shock as Cas’ teeth sank briefly into the flesh of his shoulder, and then again into the skin just above his tattoo.

“Biting now? Hickies aren’t bad enough?” Dean protested insincerely and enjoyed the vibration of Cas’ laughter through his whole body.

“You seem to enjoy it,” Cas pushed back.

“Yeah…” Dean sighed back, his head falling back as Cas continued to lavish attention on him. Somewhere in his head the sentence went on to say that, yeah, that was the problem. Each time they did this – the kissing and touching and everything – the moment where it crossed the line into “not ready for this” territory came faster. They had kissed and groped for hours all totaled up now, and there had maybe been some grinding, but each time Dean had called time out when his pants had started to feel too tight and his blood had almost completely stopped going to his brain.

And of course he was way beyond that line now.

Cas’ mouth was on his left nipple and he was making small sounds in the back of his throat. And Cas kept moving, still pining Dean beneath him and between his legs, and creating ridiculous amounts of friction…Dean shivered and pulled back. Well, he tried to. It was sort of difficult to do with six feet of ex-angel on top of you.

“Dean?”

Dean blinked at looked up at the curious blue eyes suddenly two inches above him. “Huh?”

“Are you…okay?” Cas asked, deep concern in his face. “You seem…”

“Freaked out?” Dean finished for him.

“I was trying to find a better term,” Cas scowled.

Dean smiled despite himself, raising a hand to touch Cas’ cheek. He in no way deserved this much patience or consideration.

“We’re just…Charlie was right, maybe about third base…and, you know, beyond, sort of…scaring the crap out of me,” Dean confessed as Cas leaned into his touch.

“We can stop, if you like,” Cas said without hesitation.

“No…I think…” Dean caught his breath, not even sure what words were waiting to come out. “Come here,” he commanded instead, pulling Cas down into a kiss and rolling them over in one easy movement. With Cas underneat him now, pressed entirely beneath him, Dean was assured of the fact that he wasn’t the only one with a situation below the belt.

“Dean…” Cas sighed his name as Dean moved his hips, applying just enough pressure to make Cas’ whole body tense then relax again from the sensation.

“I still haven’t explained third base yet,” Dean purred into Cas’ ear, hand trailing down his side until he reached the edge of his jeans.

“I think I have a reasonable guess…” Cas began to argue but the words seemed to lose their way as Dean undid the first button on his jeans, rolling his hips at the same time.

“Don’t you want to find out if you’re right?” Dean asked, licking behind Cas’ ear and earning a strangled gasp. He smiled to himself, very, _very_ slowly working down Cas’ zipper, the task made more difficult by the state of Cas’ hard on. Being touched and undone, that was the scary, not-ready-for-that realm. But touching Cas, really showing him what this human thing was all about. That he could do.

“Are you sure?” Cas rasped, gripping Dean’s bicep tightly.

“Yeah,” Dean whispered.

He kissed Can hard and deep at the same moment he took Cas’ hard length in hand. Cas arched his back and moaned into Dean’s mouth, quivering beneath him.

“I’m sure,” Dean added, tightening his grip and beginning to stroke. Cas made a noise that was downright pornographic, his head falling back and his eyes clamping shut. Dean grinned. “Very, very sure."

 

~*~*~

 

“Are you kidding me? It cannot end that way!” Kevin groaned gaping at the computer screen.

“Sorry, hon, gotta wait until the next season to see how it works out…” Charlie sighed. “ _If_ it ever comes out.”

“I can’t believe Sherlock would do that to John…” Kevin protested, scowling at the credit now rolling on the monitor. “It’s total crap. If you’re alive and someone thinks you’re _dead_ , you need to tell them!”

“Is this getting kind of personal?” Charlie asked, eyebrows high.

Kevin huffed and rose from his bed, shaking his head. Charlie had assured him that BBC dramas would make him feel better and had been completely lying about it. Now all he could think about was the British monster that had probably killed his mom was going to go free, get to be human again and…

“I…I think I need to talk to Sam,” Kevin muttered, turning and heading out of his room without looking back.

“Ok…I’ll just…be here…” he heard Charlie say as he stalked down the hall.

Sam’s bedroom was empty and dark. The library too was empty and quiet, as was the risk room and kitchen.

“No luck finding him?” Charlie asked as Kevin met her in the den.

He shook his head in confusion.

“Maybe he’s feeding the demon king?” Charlie offered. Kevin shuddered at just the idea of going near Crowley’s dungeon, but it was a thought.

He didn’t pay much attention to Charlie skipping behind him as he made his way up to the storeroom that hid the dungeon. His thoughts were focused on what he could possibly say to Sam to make him understand.

“Whoa, is it supposed to be open like that?” Charlie asked just as Kevin’s eyes focused on the sight before him. The dungeon doors were wide open and… “And isn’t there supposed to be a demon in there?”

“Fuck,” Kevin whispered. “ _Fuck_.”

 

~*~*~

 

“Fuck…” Castiel moaned the profanity. He had never been one for swearing, really. Dean did more than enough for the both of them, but in the moment the combination of sensation and feeling made the word seem to be just about the only appropriate exclamation. Well, that and… “Dean.”

“Is that good?” Dean asked huskily.

Castiel’s eyes flew open and rolled back, or at least he believed they did. He was seeing nothing but color and light and all of reality was concentrated in _feeling_ and…

“Fuck,” he gasped again as his climax hit him and for a second he was sure he had his grace again. So that was what the poetry was about then. He understood much better now, though perhaps not as thoroughly as he might hope…

The sound of Dean chuckling pulled him back down to reality. Reality was flushed and tangled and sticky, but Dean was grinning and that was all that mattered.

“Didn’t know you had a mouth like that on ya,” Dean chided. Castiel might have blushed if he had the energy. “I gotta say though, it was pretty…”

A frantic knock at the door cut-off Dean’s flirtation. Castiel furrowed his brow as Dean went pale.

“Dean? Dean! It’s Charlie, and Kevin…uhh...I really hope you’re in there and decent or close because we sort of have a problem…”

“Not a good time, Charlie,” Dean growled, his whole body tensing above Castiel. “God, that girl has the worst timing.”

“Dean, Crowley is gone!” Kevin’s voice came, muffled from outside the door. Castiel felt his stomach seize in panic. “And we can’t find Sam.”

They were both moving before the sentence was even finished.

“God fucking damn it, Sam…” Dean muttered under his breath as he grabbed his tee shirt from the floor. He wiped his hands on his button up and threw it to Cas, who used it to unceremoniously clean himself as well.

“Dean?” Charlie asked worriedly from outside.

“Hang on!” Dean snapped, glancing to make sure Castiel had made sufficient progress in dressing before yanking the door open. Castiel was able to zip his jeans just in time to see a bright red head of hair through the door.

“We looked all over, can’t find him…” Charlie’s voice faded as she caught sight of Castiel as he pulled on his shirt. “Uh…can’t find him anywhere, doesn’t look like there was a struggle though…”

“That’s because he let Crowley out,” Dean growled, pushing out of the room and rushing down the hall. Charlie scampered after, while Kevin remained staring at Castiel.

“We should follow them,” Castiel reprimanded the young man.

“Oh, uh…yeah…” Kevin said. He shook his head, apparently snapping from whatever stupor discovering Castiel and Dean had put him into.

They rushed down the halls towards the entrance to the bunker, catching up with Charlie and Dean. They burst into the fresh summer night, looking, Castiel assumed, for some sign of tire tracks or foot prints.

“Where do you think he - they went?” Charlie asked, looking around them at the emptiness.

Dean’s face was stony and furious. “I have no freaking idea…”

“The crossroads, down the road to the bunker,” Castiel answered and three pairs of eyes turned to him. “He intends to test the modified exorcism with Crowley’s help, doesn’t he? Crowley could easily summon a demon to them at a crossroads.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dean grimaced and turned to run down the gravel road. Castiel was easily able to keep up with Dean, while Charlie and Kevin fell behind. They didn’t say anything – though Castiel had no idea at all what there was even to say at the moment – they just ran. Suddenly a flash of light illuminated the road a hundred feet ahead of them.

“Fucking hell!” Dean exclaimed, pushing into a sprint.

The sight that met their eyes when the skidded into the cross roads was hard to make sense of at first. Sam was standing back beside an open laptop as black clouds of demonic smoke swirled around a small man. Both the man and the smoke were wreathed in white light, while Crowley stood to the side.

“Oh good, I love an audience,” Crowley quipped as the small man convulsed and the black smoke – the demon – shriveled and disappeared. “Too bad you missed the first part of the show.”

Dean muttered something Castiel was quite sure was profanity before punching Crowley directly in the face. The demon crumpled to the ground, gripping his jaw.

“Dean!” Sam yelled.

“What the hell, Sam!?” Dean roared, rounding on Sam. “Are you out of your mind? I told you…”

“You’re not the only one that gets to make decisions, Dean!” Sam snarled back. “I said I found a way to make this work, and look! It worked!”

“Because you worked with a murdering douche bag?” Dean retorted.

“I resent that characterization…” if Crowley had any further bon mots they were cut off as Dean spun and punched him again.

“Guys, maybe we should calm down a bit…” Charlie stammered.

Castiel sighed. “She’s right…”

“Shut up, Cas!” Dean snapped with such venom it felt like a slap. “Being fucking calm is not the answer!”

“ _What is going on_?!” a pained, reedy voice broke in. They turned as one to the shaking man at the center of the cross roads. “Who the hell are you people!” he pled, his eyes darting around the uneven circle of hunters and other beings.

“It’s okay, you’re okay…” Sam told him, gesturing for the man to calm down.

“Where am I? What the hell happened to me!” the man whimpered.

“Short version? Hell happened to you,” Dean grumbled. The man’s blood-shot eyes widened in confusion. “You were possessed by a demon.”

“A what?!” the man shrieked.

“It’s gone now though, we got it out of you and you’re gonna be fine,” Sam added.

“No…It wasn’t real,” the man protested. “There was this smoke…and then this horrible dream and…”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Castiel offered. “Everything you saw was real. Whatever atrocities you saw were not your responsibility though.”

“Huh?” the man balked at Castiel. “Listen. I don't know who you people are. My name is Francis Hollingsworth. I’m from Omaha. I breed dachshunds for a living!”

“It’s okay Francis, we’ll get you home…” Sam began.

“ _I_ will get him home,” Dean cut him off. “You…clean up your demon mess.”

“Dean…”

“I mean it, Sam,” Dean snarled, avoiding Sam’s eyes.

“I’ll go with you…” Castiel began without a second thought.

“No.” The harshness in Dean’s voice and eyes made Castiel feel like the ground had gone out from under him.

“Dean…” Castiel began.

“I don’t need any more goddamn distractions!” Dean snapped, garing at Castiel.

Castiel might have thought something about how everything seemed to go quiet suddenly, like each person was holding their breath, but words he had just heard blocked that out. It made it impossible for him to argue or even try to remember the last time Dean had said something quite so harsh.

“I would appreciate a second escort…” Francis Hollingsworth interjected uneasily, breaking the tension. Dean grimaced and looked away.

“You probably shouldn’t be alone,” Charlie murmured in agreement.

“I’ll take Kevin then,” Dean answered tightly. The assembled group barely had time to blink before Dean had turned and was walking back towards the bunker and, presumably, the Impala. “Come on, Kev!” Dean yelled without turning around. “You too, Francis!”

“Trouble in paradise, is it Cas?” Crowley asked with a sneer as Dean’s outline disappeared into the night, Kevin and Francis trotting bewilderedly after him.

“Shut up,” Sam said tightly. Castiel was still too shocked and hurt to speak.

“Seems to me like the big hero doesn’t have much of a use for either of you now, does he?” the demon continued.

“Sam, just let me get my facts straight here,” Charlie interjected, as both Sam and Castiel tensed. “This guy is the King of Hell?”

“Damn right,” Crowley answered.

“He was,” Sam corrected. “Now he’s just a pathetic has-been.”

“And he’s hurt and killed lots and lots of people?”

“To put it mildly,” Castiel muttered.

“Ok, cool, just checking…” Charlie nodded.

“Star struck, love?” Crowley grinned as Charlie advanced on him, her face nervous but determined.

“You should’ve shut up when Sam told you to,” Charlie said and delivered a vicious knee to Crowley’s crotch. “Queen of Moondoor beats King of Hell, dickhead.”

Castiel wished he had the heart left to laugh.

 

~*~*~

 

“So are…we gonna talk at all?” Kevin asked uneasily, glancing beside him to where Francis Hollingsworth sat quaking in the back seat of the Impala.

“No,” Dean replied without missing a beat.

“I would, uh…appreciate a little more of an explanation for…whatever happened,” Francis stammered.

“Demons are real. One possessed you. We fixed it. End of story,” Dean grumbled back.

“And you…do this…often?” Francis pushed.

Dean gave a quick glance to them in the rearview mirror as he set his mouth in a tense line.

“Yeah, they do,” Kevin answered finally. “They’re hunters. They kills monsters and demons and stuff.”

“Monsters are real too?” Francis asked back, his face going slack.

“Oh, uh…yeah…”

“Great,” the man sighed, collapsing back. “Wait…are you not a…hunter?”

“Me? I’m…” Kevin wondered if there was really any gentle way to explain. “No, I’m a prophet.”

“Oh.”

Several minutes passed in tense silence.

“How…long have you, I mean, they been doing this?” Francis asked suddenly.

Dean made no indication he was going to break his silence.

“Uh, I think Sam and Dean have been doing it most of their lives,” Kevin attempted.

“He’s Dean?” Francis nodded towards the front seat.

“Yeah. Sam’s his brother…”

“The really cute one? Or the tall one?”

Kevin swallowed. “Uh, the tall one…”

“I mean, he’s not bad, ok, but they other guy…” Francis raised his eyebrows high and let out a light whistle.

Kevin caught the reflection of Dean’s glare in the rear view mirror.

“Yeah, that’s Cas. He’s…” Kevin didn’t even know where to start.

“Obviously taken, I can tell,” Francis sighed.

“Uh, well…” Kevin stammered. “He…That’s…”

“No one’s goddamn business,” Dean snapped.

“Yikes, touchy…” Francis muttered.

Dean’s head snapped back and he gave them another glare. The silence retuned forcefully and remained.

 

Three hours later they had deposited Francis at his townhouse in Omaha, having given him a number to call if he encountered any other demonic activity. Kevin hoped for the guy’s sake it wouldn’t come to that.

Kevin settled proudly into the front seat beside Dean.

“So, _now_ are we gonna talk about what happened?” Kevin asked tiredly. The last vestiges of his ability to filter his thoughts before they reached his mouth had faded away around the Nebraska state line.

“About what?”

“Why I’m here instead of Sam or Cas.” Dean made no indication that he was going to respond. “I mean, Sam, yeah, I get it. You're pissed he went behind our backs. But why they hell were you a dick to Cas? I thought you two were…”

“Kevin if you start talking about my sex life, I swear to god…”

“I was going to say, in love, but ok.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Dean sputtered eyes widening in what Kevin could only describe as abject horror.

“Well, yeah,” Kevin shrugged. “It’s kind of obvious.”

“Not to me!” Dean shot back, his voice considerably higher than usual.

“Yeah, apparently Winchesters have issues with perceiving normal human emotions, so that’s not surprising,” Kevin answered sourly. “You don’t get rid of the evil murderers in your dungeon.  You miss a memo and treat your sibling like crap.”

Dean looked at him like he was speaking in tongues. Which, knowing his life, was entirely possible. 

“You do know that Sam thinks you think he’s sick and pathetic and don’t trust him, right?”

“What?” Dean spat.

“Great. That’s perfect,” Dean grumbled. “Another thing this whole…thing has screwed up.”

“Oh my god,” Kevin said before he realized the words were aloud. He shook his head in disbelief. “Are you actually turning this you and Cas into the problem?”

Dean accelerated down the freeway, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. He cast Kevin a look that seemed to say: ‘isn’t it?’

“Pull over,” Kevin ordered.

“What?”

“You heard me: Pull over.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to do something and I don’t wanna crash and die,” Kevin explained impatiently.

Dean scowled but obeyed, bring the Impala to a stop on the shoulder of the empty highway.

Kevin unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face Dean more directly. Dean turned to him expectantly.

“You’re an idiot,” Kevin snapped and smacked Dean soundly (but not too roughly) on the side of the head.

“Ow! What the hell!” Dean yelped.

“You actually think that…being whatever it is you and Cas are is bad?” Kevin asked irately. “You think that Sam pulling the stunt with Crowley is somehow your fault because you took a few minutes to yourself to get with Cas? Are you insane?”

“I…what…” Dean stammered.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Huh?” Kevin went on, delivering a second, lighter blow for emphasis. “Sam is your family and he’s alive and he’s around and that’s a good thing. Cas is freaking crazy in love with you, god knows why, and that’s a good thing too. You know what’s a bad thing? Worrying so much about Sam and what he thinks or what happens to him that you treat him like a child and treat your boyfriend like crap!”

“Hey I do not…Cas is not...”

“I am not finished, Dean Winchester!” Kevin snarled, raising his hand again.

Dean flinched and snapped his mouth closed.

“You are not the only person responsible for things! But if you want to be you can fix all of it but actually talking to the people you love. Simple as that!”

Dean stared at Kevin for a long stretch, blinking slowly as Kevin’s words (hopefully) sank in.

“I don’t…Cas doesn’t…I mean, he and I…we...but we don't...” Dean attempted.

Kevin sighed heavily and fell back into his seat. “You can start driving again now. I’m going to try and sleep,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Kevin closed his eyes as the Impala rolled smoothly back onto the highway. Dean didn’t say anything else, which Kevin counted as a small victory. He hoped the older man had understood what had been left unsaid: it was important, more important than anything really, to tell people you loved them while you had the chance.

 

~*~*~

 

Dawn was just starting to brighten the edges of the horizon when Dean pulled the Impala into the bunker garage. Kevin stumbled out after him, barely opening his eyes as he muttered something about poptarts and headed off to his room. Dean let out an exhausted breath, scrubbing his hand over his face as he walked into the empty library.

He wanted to tell himself it was habit, rather than guilt or need that took him to Cas’ closed bedroom door. He could hear voices on the other side which was weird and confusing and did not make him jealous until he figured out it was the soft sound of music, rather than talking.

“Cas?” he asked, knocking softly. The music stopped and after a wait that made Dean’s insides twist into even tighter knots of guilt and confusion the door cracked open. The blue eyes that met Dean’s were tired and impatient.

“You made it back safe,” Cas stated.

“Yeah, I…” Dean wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say. He’d spent almost three hundred miles of dark highway trying to work out the thoughts and words. The physical stuff was nothing compared to this. He had figured that it would come to him when it needed to…nothing was coming out. Not a syllable.

“Is Mr. Hollingsworth safe?” Cas asked stoically.

Dean swallowed and nodded as Cas held his gaze, staring right into him, as usual. He always had a way, a way that sometimes was incredibly annoying, of making Dean feel completely and totally _seen_. Seen for everything he was and wasn’t; everything he had been and could be. And how could someone that saw him so entirely ever…

“What ya listening to?” Dean asked awkwardly, pushing the thought and all of Kevin’s insane advice far back and away.

“Charlie recommended it, it’s a musical based off _The Taming of the Shrew_. There are a few songs that I quite like,” Cas explained patiently, his face still unreadable.

“Oh.” Dean wanted to punch himself.

Cas gave a small sigh and looked down. “You should…get some rest.”

Dean felt a bit like he’d been punched. Which he probably deserved. He probably also deserved the fact that Cas was not moving and apparently waiting for Dean to stop keeping him from his music, or whatever.

“Yeah, I’m beat…” Dean half-lied, backing away with a weak nod. “I’ll uh…” he couldn’t come up with anything. “Yeah. Night. Or morning. Whatever.”

“Sleep well,” Cas said. Dean turned and started to head down the hallway. It took him two steps to realize the stupidity of this. “Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean blurted out as he spun around.

Cas looked at him with something between understanding and absolute frustration for a second. “It’s alright, Dean,” Cas told him, unconvincingly. “Good night. Or morning. Or whatever.”

The door was shut before Dean could work up another word.

Dean leaned against the hallway wall beside Cas’ door and fought the urge to bang his head against the plastered surface. On the other side of the door the music started up again which Dean told himself was his cue to move and to stop sulking outside the door like a lovesick puppy.

Except he wasn’t lovesick because that just…Because Kevin’s brain had obviously been fried by the prophet thing, that was why. And because if he was it meant he’d just end up distracted more and more and that could get someone killed next time. This thin with Cas wasn't going to get anyone hurt. And if he got Cas hurt. But, he didn’t….

He couldn’t even really think the word in his own head. So he certainly couldn't feel it. And someone, some _thing_ like Cas for sure would never feel that way about him. Like him, maybe. Look up to him. Want to be around him or even kiss him or want him but…not the other thing. He didn’t deserve the other thing, not from Cas.

On the other side of the door the plaintive melody of the singer’s voice faded. There was a moment of silence and the music started again. Dean realized, somewhat confused that it was the same song. Apparently Cas liked it and was playing once more. He had to really like it because he’d turned the volume up and now Dean could make out the words clearly.

Dean leaned against the door, listening and the words was like another smack to the skull.

_Strange, dear, but true, dear,_  
_When I’m close to you, dear,_  
_The stars fill the sky,_  
_So in love with you am I._

He remembered sitting beside Cas under the stars and reaching out to him. He hadn’t really thought, in real words what had made him do that but…

 _Even without you,_  
_My arms fold about you,_  
_You know, darling, why,_  
_So in love with you am I_.

The woman’s voice was like smoke through silk and it made Dean’s throat tighten and his hands go cold and numb. He wondered how many time Cas might have listened to this song tonight.

_In love with a night mysterious,_  
_The night when you first were there,_  
_In love with my joy delirious,_  
_Just to know that you could care…_

He remembered another night under the stars and hearing Cas say that he just wanted him. Just that.  And he’d kissed him and he really should have known then, because it had been the best damn kiss in his life. Or may he should have known years ago.

_So taunt me, and hurt me,_  
_Deceive me, desert me,_  
_I’m yours til I die,_  
_So in love with you am I._

Dean clenched his fist against the doorframe. He wished he wasn’t quite such an idiot or a coward, wished he was simply someone _not him_  who had the balls to knock on the door and just ask if what he was thinking was true. But he wasn’t that person and he didn’t know how to ask.

He turned and walked away, his steps heavy as he made his way to his room.

He didn’t know how to ask and worse than that, he didn’t know how to answer. At least he could try and be honest and think the word. Shakespeare’s fault again, in a roundabout way. Stupid Shakespeare.

The music still echoed softly behind him, repeating the last verse.

_So taunt me, and hurt me,_  
_Deceive me, desert me,_  
_I’m yours til I die,_  
_So in love, so in love,_

_So in love with you, my love, am I._

How could he tell anyone he was in love and that it was the most terrifying thing in the world?


	11. "And this is my conclusion."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My cousin tells him in his ear that he is in her heart."
> 
> or
> 
> "In which the author manages in the last chapter to work the title of the story into the body of the work"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I can't believe this is finished. My first major Destiel fic - though it certainly won't be my last. Thanks to everyone whose read or will read. I hope it's made you happy. For the final act, we get to my favorite play of all time and the reason I love Shakespeare. Please enjoy.

 

 

 

_Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,_

_Men were deceivers ever,_

_One foot in sea, and one on shore,_

_To one thing constant never._

_Then sigh not so, but let them go,_

_And be you blithe and bonny,_

_Converting all your sounds of woe,_

_Into hey, nonny, nonny._

 

~*~*~ 

 

“I am such an ass.”

Charlie looked up from her cup of coffee to see Dean standing at the foot of the library table. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink and had maybe been hit with a truck somewhere in the early morning hours. Served him right.

“No arguments here,” Charlie muttered, looking back at her computer screen.

“Great, you’re pissed at me too?” Dean sighed heavily and collapsed into a chair across from her.

“I’m on Cas’ side and you were, as we’ve established, a total ass to him last night, so yeah. I’m pissed at you by association,” Charlie shot back. It broke her heart a bit to think back on the long walk back to the bunker and the look on Cas’ face when she’d tried to assure him that Dean hadn’t meant what he’d said, and that the hunter would come around. She hadn’t been successful, and had left Cas to frown and listen to Cole Porter alone in his room.

“Okay, well…how do I fix it?”

“Fix it?” Charlie echoed, wondering if she had hallucinated. “You want to fix it? Well, you can start by telling your boyfriend you don’t think he’s a useless distraction.”

“He’s not my…” Dean stopped short as Charlie kicked him in the shins beneath the table. “Damn it, would you people stop hitting me!”

“Huh?”

Dean shook his head and shut his eyes, as if his skull was about to explode. “I meant…that’s such a dumb word for it, okay? Cas…he’s more than that. He's my…” Dean opened his eyes and met Charlie’s gaze, silently begging her to finish the sentence. “See, this is the problem. I don’t know how to talk about this crap.”

Charlie sighed, reminding herself internally that even _trying_ to talk about this was a huge step for the hunter with the emotional maturity or a cantaloupe. “Dean, whatever he is…he’s yours. You know that right?”

Dean shook his head miserably. “He was. Or he won’t be for long if I keep screwing this up. See above re: I’m an ass.”

“Dude, if that was a turn-off for Cas, I don’t think he would have stuck with you this long,” Charlie said, shaking her head in frustration. “Just _talk to him_. And to Sam?”

“And say what?” Dean snapped back.

“What do you mean, what? 'I love you. I love Cas.' How hard is that?” Charlie groaned.

Dean pursed his lips and studied the ground.

“Charlie, I can’t…I haven’t said that to anyone for a really long time,” Dean confessed softly.

“How long?” Charlie asked before she could stop herself. “I mean you’ve said it to Sam? Or your exes, right?” The look Dean gave her answered the question with a soul-crushing ‘no.’

“My mom, okay,” Dean answered at last. “The last person I told that was my mom.”

“Oh,” Charlie breathed.

“Yeah. And…I mean, this thing with Cas it’s good, or it was and that’s...what do I do when it’s not? It’s like the Friar tells Romeo, ‘ _These violent delights have violent ends_.’ It’s the story of my life…”

“You think you’re Romeo?” Charlie snickered and Dean gave her an offended scowl. “Dude, if anyone you’re Benedick. Or Beatrice, maybe.”

“Who?”

“And you call yourself a Shakespeare nerd.  _Much Ado About Nothing_? Joss Whedon even did a version of it,” Charlie explained.

Dean scrunched his face in confusion.

“Ok, I think that while you’re working through your emotional crisis, you need to do a bit more reading.”

 

Two hours later, Dean was in his room and hunched over his desk. The Complete Works was open in front of him, black type on a white pages practically laughing at him.

“I am an ass…” Dean sighed again to himself.

 

~*~*~

 

Castiel didn’t realize the coffee had grown cold until he took another sip. Time must have escaped him, because the last sip had been scalding. Maybe he had dozed off without noticing, which would be lucky. His head _was_ a bit clearer, though that wasn’t really a good thing. It just meant he could recommence brooding over where things with Dean had possibly gone wrong.

He’d gone over the last night a hundred different times in his head and he still couldn’t pinpoint what he had done to earn Dean’s ire. Maybe he hadn’t done anything? Dean _had_ come to apologize, in his way, but Castiel had been too confused and tired to talk. Maybe that had been a mistake. Maybe all that music about love had confused him.

He wasn’t confused though. Not about his own feelings. Not now.

He’d never been confused. He just hadn’t known the human words. Thinking of them now though, with things so uncertain just made him...ache.

“Are you ok?”

Castiel’s attention snapped up to Sam who was taking up most of the door to the kitchen and staring quizzically at Castiel.

“I…” Cas didn’t really know if he could lie about this. He wasn’t very good with deception anyway. “I didn’t sleep well after last night’s excitement.”

“Yeah, well, get ready for part two,” Sam murmured. “I’ve got a deal to hold up.”

“Sam, are you actively trying to make this all worse?” Castiel himself was surprised at the edge in his tone, though not as surprised as Sam looked. “This is a decision everyone should make together, not just Dean or you.”

Sam frowned and looked away, cowed. “Dean and I…we’re not used, uh…”

“Considering how your actions affect other people, yes I’m well aware,” Castiel finished tartly. “But you’re both intelligent grown men, I’m sure you can learn.”

Sam blinked several times as Castiel took another acrid sip of coffee. He missed his tea but they were out and he was too proud to mention it to anyone. Dean had always just known when to buy more.

“Ok.”

Castiel looked up at Sam, whose face had filled with resolve. “Ok?”

“Ok, then…what’s your vote? On Crowley,” Sam explained.

Castiel paused to consider, weighing between the risk of letting Crowley go and the obvious justice of killing him.

“I think Kevin should decide,” Castiel stated finally.

 

~*~*~

 

Sam braced himself before knocking on Dean’s door. He was not groveling and he was not angry, not entirely. But Cas was right and this was a decision everyone had to make. And to make that decision he had to make things right with Dean. That was usually easier said than done though. Sam raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open before he could move.

“Whoa,” Dean exclaimed, stumbling back. “Um, hey.”

“Hey,” Sam muttered.

“I wanted to talk to you,” both brothers said in unison. Dean smiled and Sam shook his head in amusement.

“You first,” Sam offered.

Dean took an unsteady breath and gestured for Sam to follow him back into the bedroom.

“I, uh, I think there’s been a…misunderstanding,” Dean grunted, scratching the back of his neck. “Between me and you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sam replied, maybe a bit bitterly, taking a seat on the edge of Dean’s mattress.

“Yeah, well…” Dean trailed off, glancing over to his desk and the book open there. He hauled his chair over the floor and sat across from Sam. “So, uh, I’ve been reading more Shakespeare.”

“That’s what you wanted to talk about? Shakespeare?” Sam balked.

“No, well…yes…It’s…I’m not good at explaining this, you know...emotional crap, but he, Shakepeare I mean, is so...” Dean stammered back.

Sam raised his eyebrows high in confusion. “Ok…I assume this will eventually make sense.”

“Listen, I’ve been reading _Much Ado About Nothing_ , and I think that’s what we’ve got here. A lot ado about not a damn thing, or at least a misunderstanding that’s been sort of pushed along by an evil bastard that tales serious pride in being an evil bastard."

“Crowley? Now it’s Crowley’s fault you were treating me like a five-year-old who needed a nap and a time out?” Sam asked back, still trying to make out what his brother was trying to say.

“I wasn’t…” Dean sighed, letting his head fall to his hands. “I didn’t keep you from going to Oregon, or avoid you, any of it because I thought you were weak or special needs or pathetic, okay? I mean, yeah, I was worried about you getting better after the trials, but I'm your brother, I'm always gonna worry. But this...this is about that."

“Then…what is it about?” Sam asked incredulously.

“I…” Dean pursed his lips and shook his head. To Sam's surprise, he turned and retrieved the book of Shakespeare, from his desk. “Ok, so there’s this guy, Benedick who swears he’s never gonna fall in love and I figure that’s, you know, sort of me or whatever but maybe he’s sort of you because his best friend Claudio was also totally against the – ya know - romance thing,” Dean explained unsteadily.

“Romance thing?” Sam echoed. He had to have heard that wrong.

Dean looked down at the text and Sam would have sworn he was blushing if it had been anyone other than his big brother who didn’t talk about _romance._

“Yeah, well, Claudio he, uh, kinda surprises Benedick cause he likes this chick, Hero. And Benedick just does not get it, maybe because she’s not, like, Claudio's usual type, or Benedick’s type, ya know?” Dean rambled on.

“No, Dean, I really don’t know…” Sam replied, seriously wondering for a moment if he had slipped into a different reality.

“Just, listen to this, man, ok?” Dean said, flipping to a dog-eared page. He read, his voice soft and sincere:

“ _When you went onward on this ended action,_  
_I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye,_  
_That liked, but had a rougher task in hand_  
_Than to drive liking to the name of love:_  
_But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts_  
_Have left their places vacant, in their rooms_  
_Come thronging soft and delicate desires,_  
_All prompting me how fair young Hero is,_  
_Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars.”_

Dean looked up from the page, waiting for Sam to respond.

“So…” Sam blinked several times. “You’re saying you wanted to get away from me because, what…you’re dating someone?” 

Dean gave a nervous nod. "Yeah, sort of..."

“What the hell, dude?” Sam demanded and Dean drew back in surprise. “When did you have time to meet someone? And who’s the girl?”

“Sam…”

"Did you meet someone online? A hunt? You…you haven’t even left the bunker since Cas got here!”

“Sammy, calm down,” Dean cut him off, raising a hand for silence. “It’s not some random girl.”

“But you said…”

“It _is_ Cas.”

“What?”

Sam blinked and stared at his brother, the last few words he’d heard refusing to process through his brain.

“It’s Cas. The…person. It’s Cas,” Dean repeated, his face utterly serious. This wasn’t the kind of thing Dean would joke about anyway. 

Sam was still having some difficulty, even as the pieces bag to slip into place. “But he’s…”

“I know.”

“And you two…”

“Yeah.”

“That night you had the fight…and while you were in Oregon…”

“Yup.”

“And last night, while I was…”

“Uh huh.”

“Whoa.”

“Right with you on that one...”

“But…you’re not gay.” Sam realized the moment the words left his mouth and Dean sent him a withering look how stupid that sounded.

“There’s such a thing as liking girls and guys, you know, I think you reminded me of that,” Dean scowled.

“So that makes you what…bi? Cas-sexual?” Sam blurted out.

“I dunno man,” Dean sighed. “Have we got to label it? Does it even matter if there’s not gonna be anyone else?”

“Hold up, _what_?” Sam chuckled, nearly jumping out of his seat to lean forward. This time he was sure Dean was blushing. “Did you just really go there?”

Dean shook his head tiredly. “Listen, Sam…I don’t know. I don’t. This is…this is not where I ever thought I’d be and definitely not who I thought I’d be saying this about but…” Dean fell back in his chair and stared down at his hands. “I think of my life, the rest of it, no matter how long or short it’s gonna be and…I can’t think of any version without Cas in it.”

Sam smiled despite himself. His brother: the softie. “Does Cas know you, uh, feel this way?”

Dean let his head fall back, another long breath leaving him, and he seemed to deflate. “I have no idea. I kinda screwed things up last night when I was…”

“A total dick,” Sam offered with a smile and Dean gave him a glare. “Listen, Dean. Just tell him what you just told me. You think you’re not good with words, but…give it a shot.”

“Yeah, well, I think I just wasted everything I got on you,” Dean argued weakly. He straightened up and gave same a tired smile. “You really cool with this?”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me? You thought I’d freak out?” Sam asked in return.

“ _I’m_ freaking out,” Dean countered. "I figured you would too."

Sam shook his head. “He makes you happy, right?”

Dean tried to hide a gentle smile and it made Sam feel both amazed and proud. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Then I’m fine. And I’m here if you need to talk. I’m happy. For both of you,” Sam told his brother and earned a genuine smile.

“Thanks, Sammy,”

“Any time," Sam nodded.

“Now, what did you want to talk to me about?”

 

~*~*~

 

“You want me to do…what?” Kevin asked Sam incredulously, looking around the table from Sam to Castiel and Charlie and then to where Dean was lurking in the doorway. “Why me?”

“Because he took your mom. He’s hurt you more than…more than us. And we should have talked to you about him from the get go,” Sam explained, casting a glance towards Cas.

Kevin swallowed thickly, looking over Sam’s shoulder to meet Dean’s eyes. The older Winchester was silent, but he gave an approving nod.

“I have to decide if he lives or dies?” Kevin confirmed aloud.

“It’s not a decision anyone expects you to make lightly, you should take time to think about it,” Cas admonished.

“And whatever you decide, we’ll support you,” Sam added. “So, no pressure either way.”

“And all of you are ok with this?” Kevin still didn’t quite believe it. Everyone around the table nodded. “Whose idea was this?”

“Cas,” Dean answered, speaking up for the first time. Cas turned to look at him with muted surprise. “And he’s usually a good person to listen to on these things.”

“I need to…take some time to think about this,” Kevin mutter.

“Take all the time you need, hon,” Charlie encouraged.

“If I…If we let him go, do we have to just…let him go?” Kevin asked, feeling a bit nauseous at the thought.

“We’ll think of a way to make sure he pays, even if he lives,” Dean reassured him, something grim and certain in his face.

Kevin rose from the table and the rest of the group followed suit, moving to disperse.

“Uh, Cas…” Dean called from the door.

Kevin cast Charlie a curious look.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas replied, more gravel and gravitas in voice than usual.

“Can I, uh, talk to you alone for a sec?”

Charlie’s eyes went wide as she suppressed a grin.

“Of course…”

Kevin didn’t catch the rest of the sentence, since Sam taking him and Charlie by the shoulder was a significant distraction.

“Come on, let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” Sam muttered.

“You know?” Charlie squealed and Sam gave a baleful nod.

“And yeah, Kev, I remember. I’ll get you your twenty bucks later, kay? Let’s move.”

“Aw, come on!” Charlie whined as Kevin shook his head and smiled.

 

 

“What did you want to talk about?” Castiel asked, trying to sound calm as he scraped a fingernail into a gouge in the library table, pointedly avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“Will you, uh, read something with me?”

“What?” Cas asked, looking up and into plaintive green eyes. He had been expecting, maybe even hoping for, excuses or apologies, but not this.  “I don’t understand…” he protested as Dean came towards him, holding a few sheets of paper.

“Just, trust me on this ok?” Dean entreated. “I’m even taking the chick part.”

Castiel looked down at the pages Dean offered him. It was obviously Shakespeare but he didn’t recognize the play.

“May I have some context?” Cas asked honestly. “This says its act three.”

“Ok, yeah. Uh, these two, Beatrice and Benedick, they always acted like they hated each other and never wanted to settle down and all their friends have been trying to push and trick them into getting together,” Dean explained swiftly. “And Beatrice, that’s me, she’s mad that this other dude just dumped her cousin and called he cousin a whore on her wedding day. The cousin's not Beatrice's. And Benedick, that’s you he…none of that matters, really…just read ok? It’ll make sense, I swear…”

Castiel sighed. He didn't understand what this was getting at or how this could ease the hurt that he was still feeling, but it was Dean and he was…trying. It wasn’t like Castiel, even angry or wounded, could say no.

“ _Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?_ ” Castiel read, stepping cautiously towards Dean.

“ _Yea, and I will weep a while longer_ ,” Dean replied, barely glancing at his own page.

Castiel wondered if they were reading this because it was true and Dean had been suffering in some way. He wanted to explain to Dean that he didn’t need to apologize again. Not really. Cas didn’t want him to suffer. “ _I will not desire that_ _,_ ” Cas read after a pause. He gave Dean what he hoped was an understanding smile.

 _“You have no reason; I do it freely_ ,” Dean read back, his face open and sincere and captivating.

 _“Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged._ _”_ Cas wasn’t quite sure what Benedick meant, only what he, Castiel, wanted it to mean. That he was on Dean’s side. He always had been.

“ _Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her_ _,_ ” Dean replied, stepping a bit closer.

“ _Is there any way to show such friendship?_ ” They were still friends Cas hoped. That would never change. Maybe that was what this was about…

“ _A very even way, but no such friend_ _,”_ Beatrice shot back.

Castiel frowned.  “Dean…what…”

“Just keep going, ok…” Dean plead.

“ _May a man do it?_ ” Cas read, trying not to let his frustration into his voice.

“ _It is a man's office, but not yours_ _._ ”

Cas opened his mouth to ask again what on earth this was supposed to be helping, then his eyes lit upon the next line. He gave Dean a curious look and the other man's mouth quirked with the hint of a smile.

“You…you really…want me to read this?” Castiel asked softly.

“Only if you, uh, want to…” Dean answered sheepishly, his eyes darting over the room until they met Castiel’s.

Something warm and amazed rose in Castiel’s chest as the eyec ontact lingered. Maybe not his chest – maybe his heart. He recited the line, without looking away. It was easy to remember. _“I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is_ _not that strange_?”

Dean’s face brightened in a shy but full smile.

 _“_ _As strange as the thing I know not_ ,” he replied back, looking bashfully down at his lines even as he took a step towards Cas. “ _It were as_ _possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as_ _you_ ,” Dean read on, quickly and unsurely.

Cas couldn’t help but grin, though he felt oddly unsteady.

 _“But believe me not; and yet I lie not; I_ _confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin_ _…_ ” Dean finished quickly.

“ _By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me_ ,” Castiel read quietly, shaking his head in wonder.

“ _Do not swear, and eat it_ _,_ ” Dean shot back, still focused on the page.

“ _I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make_ _him eat it that says I love not you_ ,” Cas answered, stepping so that he was only a few inches from Dean.

“ _Will you not eat your word_?” Dean asked uneasily. Maybe, Cas, guessed, he still didn’t quite believe him.

 ** _“_** _With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest_ _…_ ” Castiel looked over the page then back up at Dean. He hooked a finger under Dean’s chin and tilted his head so their eyes met again. _“I love thee._ _”_

 _“Why, then, God forgive me_ ,” Dean almost sighed.

“ _What offence, sweet Beatrice?_ ” Cas whispered with half a smile, leaning in towards Dean.

“ _You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to_ _protest I…loved you_ ,” Dean breathed, the words brushing Castiel’s cheek and thundering in his heart.

Cas leaned closer, his lips grazing Dean’s ear. “ _And do it with all thy heart_.”

It didn’t surprise him when Dean kissed him, softer than usual, but somehow deeper. He paid no mind to the quiet flutter of their pages falling to the floor and his hands settled on Dean’s hips, and Dean cupped his face.

Dean drew out of the kiss unhurriedly and pressed his cheek to Castiel’s, confessing into his ear: _“I love you with so much of my heart that none is_ _left to protest_ _._ ”

Castiel laughed quietly, love – he had the right name for it now, he was sure – surging through him like something electric and alive. More so even than in the heat of passion the night before, this felt like the return of his grace. Yet it was more raw, more thrilling. It was perfectly and astoundingly…human.

“I do love you,” Cas murmured, pulling Dean close. “In case you were still wondering.”

“Thanks. I got it. Sorry I was a dick.” Dean muttered, resting his forehead against Castiel’s.

 “I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” Castiel shrugged.

“Hey, that’s…”

Castiel cut him off with a long kiss. Dean’s look of indignation when he pulled away was not very effective.

“That is so not fair,” Dean protested thickly.

“It’s very effective though,” Cas said and Dean chuckled. A small, strangled noise came from somewhere outside of the room, but they both ignored it.

“I do too, you know…” Dean added quietly, one arm snaking around Castiel’s waist. “I really do.”

“I know, Dean,” Castiel murmured back, as Dean stroked his jaw with a thumb. “I know.”

“ohmygod!” a small squeal came from somewhere out of sight.

“We can hear you, pervs!” Dean yelled over his shoulder, and muffled laughter came in reply.

“We’re not even here, proceed with the making out!” Charlie’s voice answered followed by what Cas was quite sure was a pained groaned, though he couldn’t tell if it was Sam or Kevin.

Dean turned back to Cas, rolling his eyes but smiling.

“Maybe we should go somewhere more private,” Cas suggested. “I’d like to find out how that play ends.”

 “Yeah, I think you’ll like it,” Dean smiled back. “It’s not too cheesy.”

“Really?” Cas asked, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth.

“Well, there’s some _as you are mine, I am yours_ stuff,” Dean replied, his voice warm with affection and hope. “But I kind of like that part too.”

 

~*~*~

_“Now, divine air! Now is his soul ravished! Is it_ _not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out_ _of men's bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when_ _all's done._ _”_

Dean smiled broadly as Cas finished the lines, not really caring that Charlie was staring and grinning back at him. He really didn’t care tight now that anyone knew he was happy, or why.

 “…do I really have to sing this?” Kevin asked sickly and everyone laughed, even Cas.

“We’ve heard you in the shower, Kev,” Sam ribbed and Kevin looked like he was going to be sick. “We know you can do it.”

“This is what the part demands, sorry, dude,” Dean shrugged.

“Oh, shut up, Beatrice,” Charlie reprimanded, throwing an arm around Kevin where the sat on the floor by the coffee table. “Go easy on the little guy.”

The sound of some horrible nineties white hip hop that Dean would deny to his grave he knew the words to blared from Sam’s pocket. “That’s Garth,” Sam muttered, pulling his phone out and striding away to answer.

“That song was not at all appealing,” Cas frowned from beside Dean.

Dean nudged him with his shoulder, glancing down at the text in front of them. “Hey… _Had he been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him._ ”

“That’s my line, Dean,” Cas admonished dourly.

“Hey, Benedick has some great stuff, I can’t help wanting to get a piece of it,” Dean replied with a smirk and wink.

“I’m sure you can’t,” Cas answered, trying to scowl but failing. Dean knocked his leg playfully against Cas, smiling again and maybe getting a bit distracted by the laugh lines around Cas’ eyes.

“You know, I take back all the stuff I said about you two making up and coming out,” Charlie groaned. “You’re disgusting and make me hate myself and my singleness.”

“Agreed,” Kevin added.

Dean’s laughter was cut off by Sam rushing back into the den.

“Hey, turn on the TV. CNN,” Sam commanded urgently.

Charlie obeyed and soon the screen flickered to pictures of a helicopter shot of police vehicles encircling a dilapidated house. A tanned anchorwoman explained from a small box in the corner of the screen.

“Again, we are confirming reports that a capture has been made in relation to the cyber-attack last week that left the country on high alert for terrorist threats. The attack, as we’ve reported, was worldwide and simultaneous and caused massive panic, though no  serious injuries were reported. Experts have still been unable to explain how a computer virus could have cause the computer explosions that resulted.”

Dean chuckled to himself. Yeah, it probably would be a _long_ time before any expert would get close to explaining how so many people had opened an email then vomited black smoke…

“We are receiving report that authorities have indeed traced the attack to the man being taken in to custody, who is not, as previously believed part of any mass hacker organization, but instead a secretive and wanted hacker going by the alias, and I hope I’m reading this right, ‘Crowley.’”

“You know, it kind of sucks that that ass is gonna get credit for my work,” Charlie grumbled. Her face fell as the group turned to her in consternation. “Our work. I meant...our work.”

On the screen the shot zoomed in on a blurry image of Crowley being led in shackles from the house to a police car. He looked listless and haggard, but more than anything, human.

“I gotta say man, I’m still impressed with you for letting him go,” Sam commented, shaking his head at the screen.

Kevin looked down, his face a mix of embarrassment and pride. “Well, you know, all that quality of mercy stuff must have got to me,” he muttered.

“It speaks very highly of you as a person,” Cas compliment with complete sincerity and Dean’s heart swelled a bit more.

"And I'm sure life in prison isn't gonna be super fun for him," Charlie added.

“I still can’t believe it even worked,” Dean said. Even after days of news coverage and a week before of planning it still hadn’t processed that his insane idea had actually manifested into reality. A reality where no one had been killed an, at the last count, three hundred and forty seven demons had been sent packing back to hell.

“Yeah well, even we get lucky sometimes,” Sam countered with a shrug.

“Yeah, some of us more than others,” Charlie smirked at Dean and Cas.

“Oh, man, I didn’t…” Sam groaned, throwing his head back as Dean rolled his eyes and Cas blinked in confusion.

“Is that a reference to Dean and I…”

“Ok, so what’s next?!” Kevin asked frantically, jumping up and shutting off the television as Cas scowled.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked patiently.

“I mean like, are we gonna go after Abaddon, fix the angels, more monster or demons? What?” Kevin explained.

“Or maybe we could, I dunno, not rush for the next things that’s gonna kill us for a while.”

The entire room turned to Dean as if he’d suggested they run through the streets naked singing showtunes.

“Are you feeling ok?” Charlie asked, her brows knit and her face slack.

“Why? Because I want to bask in the win and _not_ get my ass kicked for a while?” Dean asked back.

“That’s exactly why,” San answered disbelievingly.

“Well, maybe my priorities are adjusting, okay,” Dean muttered back, trying with all his might not to glance over at Cas and start smiling again. “Maybe I want to just enjoy life for a little while.”

“Cas, I don’t know what you’ve done to this guy but…wow…” Charlie laughed, shaking her head.

“I assure that I haven’t done anything out the ordinary,” Cas protested flatly.

“Oh I think you have,” Charlie grinned.

Kevin collapsed into the bean bag chair, sighing and shaking his head. “I give up.”

“She’s right, Dean,” Sam chuckled. “The gay agrees with you. Though you might really start freaking me out if you start talking about picking out curtains for the bunker or wedding colors or some crap.”

“Oh, haha,” Dean scowled. “You’ll change your tune when you don’t get to be best man.”

Cas was the one to look at Dean with a mix on confusion and concern this time.

“I’m not actually serious. Mostly…” Dean told him. Cas thankfully smiled in understanding. There would be time for that a long while later.

“You know, I never thought I’d see the day…” Sam murmured, shaking his head and smiling. “My brother: the hunter in love.”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned fully to Sam, smirking as he began to recite.

" _I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of_ _wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost_ _thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?”_

Sam’s eyebrows rose as Charlie giggled to herself.

 _“No:_ _if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear_ _nothing handsome about him_ ,” Dean went on sternly. “ _In brief, since I do_ _purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any_ _purpose that the world can say against it; and_ _therefore never flout at me for what I have said_ _against it._ ”

“You’re taking my lines again, Dean,” Cas whispered, even as Sam smiled more brightly than Dean had seen in years.

Dean let it all wash over him, the smiles, the warmth, the family around him and the love beside him.

Without another thought, he twined his fingers with Cas', gripping him tight and pulling him close.

 _“For man is a giddy thing…”_ Dean smiled. _“And this is my_ _conclusion._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is. Though maybe there might be some tiny sequel ficlets in the future if there is interest and the mood strikes.
> 
> Now.
> 
> Give me your hands, if we be friends...And Robin shall restore amends.


End file.
